#THE WAY I COULD PICTURE IT SOMEHOW LIKE!!! A SINGLE BLOB- YEAH...

[oldestking]

/ A.RIA I NEED U TO KNOW I LAUGHED SO HARD AT UR TAGS

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

I Have Found You

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Aaron Hotchner Taglist - @braelyniskool, @canadailluminate, @filmsbyblair, @ready-4-spencie, @mrs-scottmccall, @j-cat, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29

Prompt - I have for the first time found what I can truly love. I have found you.

—————————————————–

You and Aaron had had a long week at work, each on separate cases but both equally as drained as the other. Your job saw you travelling to and from New York each day, working for one of the states best law firms, it was hard working your way up but you did it and now you were dealing with high profile cases day in and day out.

This case was particularly gruelling but it was finally finished and you had won. It was a small victory for the family but it was a victory nonetheless.

Aaron was working on his own case, he had been in Las Vegas for the past four days dealing with a serial killer who was targeting families. The unsub was organised, too organised, and more families were killed before they finally caught a break. From there it had been a matter of hours before they caught the man and the team was back on the jet.

Aaron finished up on the phone before dropping down into his seat beside Rossi who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Short of an emergency we all have Friday and Monday off, I don’t want to see any of you for four days.” Aaron announced to the jet, smiling as it was filled with cheers and laughter.

“So, big plans?” Rossi asked, smirking at Aaron who just rolled his eyes.

“I plan on doing absolutely nothing.” Aaron replied with a smile, already thinking of how great it would be to spend a long weekend with you and Jack, it had been far too long. He had already spoken to you and upon hearing the good news of your case asked if you could get two days off and thanked god that you could.

“I hear you, man.” Derek spoke up from opposite Rossi. “Four whole days of nothing but me and my girl.”

“What about you, kid?” Rossi asked, looking at Spencer who sat opposite Aaron.

“There’s a film festival I really wanted to go to actually, it's showing a bunch of different films in their original language.” Spencer told him and the grin on his face was enough to stop any teasing.

“Have a good time, pretty boy.” Derek smiled back, ruffling the younger man's hair causing him to pout.

Aaron couldn’t help but smile at the scene but as much as he loved this family, he couldn’t wait to get back home to you and Jack.

-

“How hard can cupcakes be, right?” You asked Jack, who stood on a chair in front of the counter. The two of you were staring at the ingredients that were spread out, not knowing where to start. When you suggested Jack make something for Aaron you were thinking more along the lines of a picture but when the kid suggested cupcakes well…you really wanted cupcakes.

“Right.” Jack agreed, grinning up at you.

Turns out it was harder to make cupcakes than either of you thought.

Aaron walked into the house, smiling immediately as he heard Jack giggling madly. He was quick to follow the noise but stopped abruptly as he stared into the kitchen.

“Daddy!” Jack yelled, quickly scrambling off the chair and throwing himself at Aaron who caught him and lifted him with ease despite the cupcake mixture that stuck to his clothes, face and hair.

“Hey buddy,” He grinned, turning his attention to you. There you stood, cupcake mix splatter on your face, in your hair and on your shirt. You looked dejected as you held an electric mixer, clearly the culprit of the cupcake explosion. “It looks like you and Y/N are having fun.” He said with a laugh, watching how you pouted up at him.

“We were gonna make cupcakes for you, daddy, but Y/N put it on too high.” Jack informed Aaron, giggling madly as he did.

“I didn’t know!” You defended, there was a reason you weren’t trusted in the kitchen.

Aaron’s smile grew and he couldn’t wait any longer to move closer to you, the hand that didn’t hold Jack caressed your cheek and he brought you in for a soft kiss. It didn’t last long, how could it with Jack laughing and making kissing noises, but the two of you pulled away with matching, love struck smiles before you and Jack began laughing together at the cupcake batter that was now perched on Aaron’s nose.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight back the smile.

“Alright, alright,” he said, gaining both of your attention, “how about you two get cleaned up and we can all go out for dinner and then get some cupcakes, hm? That sound good?” He asked Jack who nodded with a grin and squirmed for Aaron to put him down. Once he did, Jack shot off to his bedroom and Aaron turned his attention to you.

“You can’t of thought that was a good idea.” He said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning in to steal another kiss.

“The kid said cupcakes, who was I to say no?” You responded when he pulled away, giggling as he trailed kisses to your jaw and then peppered them down your neck.

Your eyes closed as you tilted your head back, giving the man more access and you couldn’t help but whine as he pulled away. The whine quickly turned into a laugh as he leaned closer and licked a blob of batter that had stuck to your neck.

“Go clean up, baby.” He said before kissing your head and untangling himself from you.

You and Jack were quick to clean yourselves up and soon you were all out the door and heading to a restaurant that you often frequented when you had Jack.

-

It felt like forever since you had been out with the Hotchner boys and you enjoyed every minute of it, no annoying work calls pulling one of you away, no looming threat of Aaron being called to a different state. No, just you, Aaron and Jack going out together, eating good food, catching up with each other properly.

It was wonderful.

“Cupcakes now daddy?” Jack asked as the waitress cleared the plates.

“Yeah, cupcakes now daddy?” You echoed with a smirk watching as Aaron playfully glared at you.

“Sure thing buddy,” He said to Jack, causing you to let out a quiet laugh. “Pick which one you want.”

Aaron couldn’t tell you who smiled wider when dessert was brought out, you or Jack. Both of you tucked in with the same hunger and he just smiled at the scene.

When you and Aaron had first met, it was to do with a case he was working on. He never expected it to blossom into this. The friendship was unexpected but not unwelcome and then before either of you had realised it you had developed feelings for one another.

You were quite a bit younger than him and he was hesitant to bring the feelings up, not understanding what you could possibly see in an older, divorced, single father.

That was the other issue, sure you knew about Jack but there was a difference between knowing about him and wanting to be a part of his life and as much as Aaron had liked you he knew he couldn’t bring somebody into his life who couldn’t accept Jack.

So the pining went on for months as Aaron made the decision for you that you didn’t want to be burdened with a child that wasn’t yours. And when you finally pulled Aaron’s head out of his arse and made him talk about the feelings between you, you could have slapped him silly.

Sure kids weren’t exactly your forte but you’d at least have liked the chance to decide that. From there Aaron had introduced you to Jack after the two of you went on a few dates. The two of you decided the best place would be out in public, a little less daunting and that’s how you ended up at the zoo.

Jack had warmed up to you rather quickly and you surprised yourself with how good you were with him. Eventually it was Jack asking if you could have a sleepover at their house rather than Aaron trying to explain that you might be there in the morning sometimes.

Aaron was so glad you had talked him out of his own head way back when, and as he watched you with Jack, he knew, not that there was any doubt, that he’d made the right choice.

-

“Can we watch a movie?” Jack asked as the three of you entered the house.

“Buddy, it’s nearly bedtime.” Aaron reminded him as he took your coat from you before taking his own off.

“Please daddy,” Jack pleaded, turning on the puppy dog eyes, “I’ll brush my teeth and put my pyjamas on.”

He looked at you but you were looking down at Jack with a soft smile and he couldn’t say no if he wanted to.

“Deal, teeth and pyjamas, we’ll meet back here in five.” Aaron said and grinned as Jack took off running.

“C’mere baby,” He mumbled as he pulled you closer to him, wrapping you up in his arms. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too.” You confessed into his chest before titling your head up. Aaron was quick to turn his head, leaning down and capturing your lips in a soft, slow kiss. When he pulled away he didn’t go far, resting his head on your forehead.

“Can’t wait to have you all to myself these next few days.” He told you quietly, fingers brushing against your waist.

“Me neither, it’s going to be heaven.” You replied, matching both his tone and the smile on his face.

“Daddy,” Jack’s voice pulled you away from each other and you turned to see the kid grinning up at Aaron showing his freshly brushed teeth and proudly wearing his Captain America pyjamas. “You and Y/N/N need your pyjamas too.”

“Of course we do!” You exclaimed, taking Aaron’s hand in yours and pulling him towards the bedroom with instructions for Jack to put a movie on.

“Really can’t wait to have you all to myself.” Aaron said again as he watched you pull your shirt over your head.

“Down boy.” You laughed, throwing the shirt at him.

Watching you undress made Aaron long to touch you but seeing you dressed in his clothes, sweatpants that were way too big for you and a college shirt that drooped off your shoulders was somehow infinitely sweeter.

“I love you.” He told you, pulling you close to place a kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“I love you too.” You smiled before turning around and kissing him. “Get changed.” You ordered.

“Yes ma’am.” Aaron laughed but did as you said.

Aaron couldn’t help but smile as he held his family in his arms. Jack was half in your lap and half in Aarons and you were sat flushed against him, head resting on his shoulder and your hand holding Jack’s leg.

The movie was still playing but Jack was fast asleep against his chest and you were pretty close to following. Despite that though, Aaron couldn’t bring himself to move and send you both to bed. Instead he tightened his grip on both of you, smiling as you cuddled further into him.

This, this was all he needed, you and Jack by his side. His little family, both of whom had been through so much. All he wanted to do was protect both of you and he would, god would he do anything to protect the pair of you.

You were one of the best things that had happened to him, he had known it since the day he had met you and he had known it two weeks ago when the team finished a case in California and he walked into the jewellers to buy the ring and he knew it now, looking down at you holding onto him and Jack.

He knew you were the best thing to happen to him in a really long time and he would forever be thankful that he had found you.

[ohheyitsokay]

to date a single father (2/2)

Pairing: Francisco Morales (Catfish, Frankie) x (f) reader

Wordcount: 3.2k

Warnings: low to medium amounts of petting? teenage level make out sesh. A stomachache worth of fluff. A little angst??

Summary: part 2! Please read part 1 before this for context :) Frankie has a little girl in kindergarten and you’re the prettiest schoolteacher he’s ever seen. Being a single dad makes navigating a relationship hard, that’s all. It’s just as daunting for you, but somehow, you’re pretty sure he’s worth it?

>>

“Frankie, I don’t know if I can do this!” your walking slowed, and you clung to his hand. Anxiety was bubbling in your chest the closer you got to the home in front of you.

He stopped, letting go of your hand to wrap his arms around you. It was a warm fall evening, and the two of you had been together a few weeks now.

It was time for you to meet his boys – the daunting equivalent to meeting his family. The little one had already run around the house, chasing the sounds of other kids and the smells of meat and smoke.

His hands ran soothingly over you, and he smiled into your hair.

“Baby, you got this, they’re gonna love you,” he said, with absolute confidence.

You pulled back, shaking yourself and taking a deep breath. “They’re your family Frankie,” you said.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not up for it,” you couldn’t help but meet his safe brown eyes. “But I promise they will love you.”

The boiling inside you settled to a simmer. You both could feel it, already, even though it had only been a few weeks.

They will love you because I love you.

“Okay,” you said, taking his hand again. “Okay, I can do this this.” For you, I can do this.

The breeze was warm and encouraging as it pushed you into the backyard. It was Will’s house, set up for a perfect barbecue and you braced yourself.

“Catfish!” one of the men called, and you smiled, despite the sudden attention.

He ran over to you, introducing himself as Santiago, and saying it was long overdue.

“Nice to meet you,” you said as the other men made their way over. “They actually call you Catfish,” you added to one at your side, half asking half not. Frankie nodded happily and shrugged his broad shoulders, but his eyes were telling you not to ask.

“Yeah we do!” one of the newcomers said excitedly. “Benny,” he said, shaking your hand, before pointing and naming most of the people around the yard. “I’m Fish's coolest friend, for the record,” he added as he was done.

This brought indignant yells from the other guys and you laughed, eyes meeting Frankie’s. He was laughing too, and he tugged you closer to his side.

Santi’s eyes caught the movement and he smiled, despite passionately asserting that he was the coolest. It meant the world to see his best friend hold you like that, after all this time.

You were already feeling much more at ease, enough to slide away from Frankie to join the other partners as the boys energetically caught bit. You scooped his little one into your arms as she clung to her snack, using her as your buffer. The evening was going to be long, and you were happy to observe your sweet pilot from afar for a bit.

Frankie was different around these guys, you were excited to get to know this side of him. There were no parts of himself he had to hide around them – and you were thankful to find that didn’t make you even a little bit jealous. Your excitement overrode your anxiety, and you began to settle into your own skin. You floated around, picking up and putting down his daughter as she ran in between the two of you and playing. It was amazing, learning about the boys, their lives, and more importantly, who they were to Frankie and vice versa. You felt his eyes on you throughout the evening, following you as you talked and listened and ate. You made sure to check in with him, but his friends welcomed you with open arms. They were talking so freely, more often than not you found yourself caught up in conversations for much longer than you anticipated.

As the group finished eating and began to settle into lawn chairs, talking at a slower pace, his little one tucked her head into your neck. You could feel her little puffs of breath even out as the excitement of the evening finally caught up to her. You’d rarely held kids this much, so you were more than grateful to sit down, unused to the extra effort of a tiny person clinging to you.

Frankie settled by your side, pulling his chair as close as he could to his two favorite girls.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice sliding under the thrum of conversation. “Are you doing okay?”

His hand warmed your shoulder, thumb rubbing gently.

“In regards to what?” You asked, crinkling your eyes so he could see your smile over his child’s curls.

He shrugged, gently moving to stroke her hair.

“You left me,” he said, almost like a question. You understood. Neither of you had planned on it – and it meant he wasn’t able to watch over you.

“I’m good, Frankie,” you said, knowing it was true. “These people… they love you. It’s not as scary as I thought it would be. I feel like I’m getting to know you all over again.”

There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quiet identify.

“In a good way, Catfish,” you said, and he grinned.

“I don’t know how I feel about you calling me that,” he said, just as Santiago plopped down next to him.

“Your fault, bud,” he said, “you brought her here – she’s part of the family now. No take backs.” He was being childish but his eyes were honest when they met yours. Frankie could feel it too.

They loved you, too.

-

“She drew a picture of you in class today.”

“What?”

You stared at your friend, knowing full well what she had said. She leafed through her stack of papers, pulling out the little crayon drawing to show you. For such a little thing, that girl was remarkable, drawing a big castle with what you could only assume were 6 helicopters and a depiction of the three of you. You all were by the moat - fishing? – and there were little yellow blobs above each of your heads.

“She told me her dad always tells her these stories,” your friend said, the air in the room growing more and more intimate by the moment.

“Wait,” you interrupted. For whatever reason, your heart was racing. You were near panicking. You held up your hand, unable to verbalize what you were afraid of.

Her eyes softened.

“I wont tell you if you don’t want me to. But honey,” she touched you gently, using that soothing teacher-voice on you. “You are doing such wonderful things. I know you weren’t prepared for all of this, but …” her eyes were firm but kind as she searched for the words that wouldn’t scare you away.

“This is one of those things that’s working because it is right. You are where you are meant to be.”

You were overwhelmed as the culmination of the last few months was manifested in front of you. You felt confronted, and had no idea what to do.

“They’ll be back from lunch in just a moment,” she offered you a way out before adding one last thing:

“When you’re ready – and you will be - ask them about it.” And you nodded.

It took you almost two full weeks to gather the courage, but you did it.

“Your teacher told me your dad likes to tell you stories,” you said over your spaghetti, trying to sound casual. Frankie paused mid-bite, eyes questioning. After all these months, of course he knew you well enough to practically read your mind.

The little girl across from you nodded before trying to push on entire meatball into her mouth. You and Frankie both scrambled but she managed it alright, much to your confusion and relief.

“Could you tell me too, please?” you tried again once all three of you were able to breath properly.

Her innocent face pondered for a moment, and then she hopped off her stool and ran into her room. You looked at her father helplessly. You weren’t good at this.

Thankfully, she made it easy on you, returning with a stack of drawings she’d done. She was apparently prepared to give you the full class.

Her adorable little voice explained that a long, long time ago, there was a prince who was not lonely, thank you very much. Because he had her, and that was all he needed. And he also had Bean, their pet unicorn. You were laughing, feeling considerably less nervous as she proudly showed you her drawings.

Frankie’s hand found yours and you held onto it, knowing he was sharing this with you in his own way.

The scars on his hand grounded you as she continued.

With plenty of adorable side trails, the story progressed, as princesses would occasionally try for the prince’s hand and he would always say no. And then she told you about how one princess came to be his best friend instead, and how she was the prettiest princess in all the land. It occurred to you that Frankie’s best friend was Santi? But then she added that the princess was so smart she probably remembered there was an “l" in the word “castle”. You weren’t sure what parts of the stories were Frankie’s, and what she had added, but still your heart was pounding as she got to the part where the prince fell in love with her.

The little one kept talking, her eyelids beginning to droop and her words becoming less and less comprehensible. Frankie let go of your hand before her head fully sunk onto the table, her little hand slowly releasing the precious papers. You watched with surprising affection as he gently coaxed her into his arms to take her to bed.

As they went through her routine, you meditated on her stories, on the weight they held.

You met Frankie as he came back into the dining area. His arms wrapped around you in an all-encompassing hug. There was relief in his shoulders as he murmured into your hair.

“I was worried you would leave,” he confessed. You knew what he meant. The indirect confession of how much he loved you loomed over you both, with the acknowledgement that you were becoming an important part of their lives. Of their family.

Like before, being close to him grounded you.

You didn’t answer – you didn’t have to. Although a small part of you wanted to run away, it wasn't the winning part.

“I love you,” He whispered to the crown of your head, and although maybe you knew already, hearing it was the final piece you need. With him – with them – you would stay.

-

You made sure the door was quiet. The warm light of his home spread mere inches before it was pushed to the ground by the heavy rain. As soon as it was closed, Frankie was scooping you up in his arms, apparently not minding your wet outer layer, planting kisses on your cheeks and forehead and nose.

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered. He was walking backwards, guiding the two of you into his small living room.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said just as quietly, wiggling in his arms to take off your shoes and set your stuff down on the coffee table.

He sank onto the couch, hands tugging you insistently. “I missed you,” his voice rumbled.

You laughed, still half standing, trying to shake off your coat. “Frankie, I saw you this afternoon!”

He was irresistible, and you finally settled into his lap, straddling him.

It was true, but his point was clear. You had been together months and months now, and had learned you rarely got a decent amount of time for just the two of you. Now, your apartment building was being renovated, so while you could still stay in your room, regular knocks from handymen and construction noises made it impossible to spend any quality time there. Both of you thoroughly enjoyed spending time with his daughter, and you came over to eat dinner with them regularly, but the evenings often ended whenever she went to bed. His room was right next to hers, and he was prone to nervously overthinking – neither of you wanted to cause her any trauma.

But you two were well and truly in love. That’s why tonight you’d come over after she went to bed, instead, eager to have him to yourself for a little while. Francisco Morales had known for a long time that he was done for.

He couldn’t believe his luck. Of course he knew the moment that he laid eyes on you that you were beautiful, and smart and kind and special but… that someone with all that and more could love him back? That there was someone who would learn with him and about him and still adore him? This was all new. And Frankie was hungry for it, for you. He wanted to prove to you that he was worth it, show you he could give you everything you deserved, and selfishly take anything you would return.

With you on his lap as you were, all he wanted in that moment was to warm you up. He wanted to be home for you and there was nothing tonight that was stopping him.

He grabbed a blanket off the side of the couch, tossing it over you both before his hands slid inside to touch you again. The first kisses were slow and insistent, as if he was trying to make sure none of the chill remained. Your hands peeked out of the blanket to hold onto his jaw, and he relished the feeling of your fingers in his stubble.

He pulled you as close as he could, his hands not stopping their moments: broad palms leaving trails of warmth over your back, your side, your neck.

The gasp that left you when his mouth made it’s way down your neck would have been embarrassing if you hadn’t been so distracted.

Frankie heard it, and it sent white hot pride shooting through him. The way your legs righted around him and your fingers clung to him made his chest fill with triumph. He was the one you were grounding yourself to.

As his hand slid under your shirt, yours found their way down, just dipping into the waistband of his jean’s at his hips. He suppressed a groan from rumbling out of his chest when suddenly he heard a door open and tiny footsteps. Both of your eyes flew open and he didn’t even see your hands move you clamp over your mouth.

Almost comically, you began untangling yourself from him, holding your breath in. The little one entered the dark living room sleepily, shuffling to the chair farthest from you until her little hands found her stuffed animal. She clung to it, almost falling asleep standing up now that she had accomplished her task. You and Frankie were completely still, one of your hands over your mouth, the other over his. Still covered in the blanket you hovered to the side of him, one of your legs half over him.

You began to tremble, but to your immense relief she slowly turned away and almost tripped, mostly sleep walking on her way back to her bed.

Both of you were shaking with suppressed laughter, and Frankie kissed your palm. You settled back into his lap, the heated mood fully dissipated in the ridiculousness of the moment.

“What would you have said is she saw us?” you murmured, your breath warm on his neck.

He hummed, arms finding their places and holding you against him.

“The truth, I think,” his voice as quiet as yours, “that I had to rescue my princess from the rain.” He smiled as he felt you subconsciously bury your face a little deeper into him.

“Not that we’re sneaking make out sessions on the couch like teenagers?” the short hairs of his beard messed up your hair when he shook his head. He didn’t say anything for awhile, but you could almost hear him thinking.

“I wish…” Frankie felt almost nervous. “Would you, no wait... it’s just..,” you pulled back, wondering at his struggle.

He has almost never seen you so beautiful, gazing at him in the dim light. Your eyes were as trusting and vulnerable as they were that very first night. He knew then what he was struggling with now. You were his; you belonged in his arms, his home, his family.

Frankie shrugged and shook his head, and went back to kissing you.

His urgency subsided, burrowing back down. Soon, his heart whispered, but not yet.

Soon, he would talk to you about the future, outright. Soon he would explain to you how much he needed you in his life every morning and every night, and as much in between as you’d give him. Soon he would ask you to if you’d stay by his side as he raised his daughter, be her mother, and be his wife.

But for now, he was content to hold you and kiss you, and grow alongside you, separately working towards your futures. As far as Frankie was concerned, with you in his arms, you two were young, in love, and had all the time in the world.

<<

Tag list (?):

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

[moon-stars01]

Screaming Colors

Minghao x Reader

Author:chimout

Summary:She watches him as he obliviously paints an evening sky he has never seen, and decides that he is the most beautiful art she has ever seen.

Gene:blind Minghao,fluffy fluff,art student au,high school au,cute,photography

Rating:General Audiences

•Screaming Colors•

He is standing there, his eyes clouded over, unfocused gaze wavering through the air. His hands are in his pockets, his dog's tight leash wrapped firmly in his grasp, and she wonders how such a beautiful and stunning person could even manage to exist. Her heart thumps in her chest as her breathing stops short, and she watches as he reaches down to pet the dog, his eyes still skimming over the busy trail in front of him. And, as the scene traps her in a boundless vortex, her fingers reach for her camera, and snaps the moment into a single frame.

Her first shot of him was in art class; he sat two seats away, a dazed gaze always flitting off into some unbound space she could not comprehend. His focus never seemed to stay fixed, and she can still remember their teacher's desperate voice as they tried to gather his attention back towards the matter at hand. But his gaze continued to stray towards some unknown abyss, and she wondered what he was dreaming of, because his photography and graphic designs could never tell her so much. They were blurry and insignificant, earning him questionable grades, and she wondered why the boy was in such an advanced class in the first place. He never seemed to truly care about his subject; the matter was always a sort of point and shoot, and the lack of thought was maddening on her behalf.

She never toyed with the idea that he is, most probably, blind, until one day she saw him in the art room alone, his hands coated in dry paint, pools of liquid spilling onto the floor below as a canvas screaming with curious colours stood in awe in front of him. There were no brushes lying about; he had painted the masterpiece with his own two hands.

And his gaze was still aimed at the sky.

Her curiosity only grew steadily from then on. Quietly, she'd follow him, watching him from the corner of her eyes as he dipped his fingers into red and blue and yellow, and allowed his fingers to dance across white sheets as they painted the evening sky. And the more curious she becomes, the more her heart speeds at the mere sight of his breathtaking form.

She watches him as he turns towards the sound of her camera, the dog beside him merely panting in recognition as it barks softly at the scurrying squirrels around them, excitement splurging in vivid pace. He tilts his head in confusion, his eyebrows digging deeper into the bridge of his nose, the haunting blank stare now somehow focused on her. "Is anybody there?"

A small breath escapes her nose as she presses her lips together, unsure whether to reveal her ghostly presence. She stares at the camera in her hands, her fingers shyly skimming through past pictures she took of him; her mouth aches to share words with the model she has long admired.

"Hi," she whispers, and she is unsure if he could hear her until she sees his frown lessen. "Sorry for scaring you."

"Do I know you?" he asks, and her heart is thumping because she wishes he would somehow recognise her. But she barely speaks in class, and she has yet to hold a conversation with him, and she finds it impossible that he would somehow find familiarity in her voice unless—

"You feel familiar."

She freezes and swallows softly as he elicits an awkward laugh, his hand finding the back of his neck almost instinctively, and the dog beside him whimpers and the sudden tug. "Sorry, that may have sounded strange. I mean, it feels like we've met before."

That much is true; he is as much of a stranger as she is to him, despite the lingering watch she keeps on him. She ponders upon her words, trying to hide the stalkerish secret she keeps. "We haven't met before. . . but we do share a class."

"You're the one who keeps taking pictures of me!" She freezes, and she finds him grinning, a blush on his cheeks as his stare seemed to wander away from her figure and towards the nature around them. "I was wondering who my personal photographer was."

"I—I'm sorry—"

He blushes deeper, and the shade of red against his cheeks is the most beautiful shade she's ever seen. "It's alright. It's actually quite flattering. I'm Minghao. I don't think I've caught your name."

"Y/n," she replies instinctively, and her fingers ache to capture the smile he directs at her. "You're a really great artist, by the way." This time, her cheeks are the ones wearing crimson hues. "Your paintings—they're remarkable."

"I've never seen them for myself." He wears a coy smile, as though there is a joke that only he and he alone could understand. "As you can see, I'm blind."

She smiles shyly back, silently musing over his subtle pun. "Um, yeah. I didn't realise when I first noticed you."

He cocks an eyebrow. "My photographs weren't obvious clues? Either they somehow all came out really good, or you suck as a photographer."

A laughter escapes her before she could stop it, and she sees him smiling wider at the sound. "No, they were really horrible. I just thought—I don't know—that you maybe had a lack of interest in the arts."

"Art is my favourite subject, actually," he corrects, and leans down to pet his guide dog that has been obediently quiet ever since the chattering animals around them disappeared. "But I can't do anything with things I can't touch. Which is why painting is my favourite medium."

"Because your hands are your brushes," she realises, and he nods, his fingers dancing on his thighs. "You can feel where the colours go just by touching the canvas."

He laughs, and it sounds almost nervous and shy, as though this is the longest conversation he has held with a complete stranger. She doesn't blame him; her chest is aching by now, and her mind is still having trouble grasping at the fact the conversation is even reality. The whole scenario simply seems somehow surreal in both their eyes.

"Kind of. I can roughly imagine the image I'm painting, but I can't actually see the colours. I usually dip my hands in some paint and hope the colours come out alright. Usually, my friends would tease me because I'm painting the sky yellow and the sun black." His face is red as though the confession is a crime, and she is astounded by his obvious luck and talent as she remembers the first evening sky she ever saw him paint.

The question slips before she could even consider it: "What if I described the colours to you?"

He chuckles. "My friends have tried, trust me. They just go, 'Yellow is the sun, and black is dark.' Which is nice of them, but it doesn't help much, since I've never seen the sun and everything looks dark to me."

She laughs. "Well, they are right. The sun is yellow, and black is dark, but yellow is also the colour of warmth, that fuzzy feeling when you laugh so much your stomach hurts, when the world suddenly seems so bright. And then black is that feeling when you're really sad and everything just seem so out of reach, like you're falling into an abyss that you can't escape. It's the colour of depression."

"You're better at this than they are," he says, and she laughs again, and he smiles suddenly, his face glowing gold. "Your laughter sounds like yellow to me."

"Is that how'd you paint me?"

"A giant blob of yellow on a blank canvas," he agrees, chuckling softly in amusement as his dull irises sparkle in new life. "You could start helping me paint from now on."

"Yeah?"

"As long you stop taking pictures of me when I'm unaware," he compromises. "I swear those pictures must be really embarrassing."

"Actually, you look quite charming in them."

He smiles. "What colour am I, then?"

She ponders silently as she watches the white clouds float past, the butterflies in her stomach finally settling somewhere deep. "You're a multitude of colours, Minghao," she decides, and she could feel his smile stretching, her answer obviously pleasing him. "You're yellow and black and everything in between. You're screaming with colours."

[msmarvelouswinchester]

The One Where Everything Goes Wrong - 1

Summary - Dean Winchester is the most charming man you have ever met so when he asks you out on a date, you say yes because what can be better than going on a date with Dean but sometimes somethings don't go the way you have planned them.

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader; Sam Winchester

Warning - Fluff, Angst-ish, mentions of hydrophobia, and fear of sharks, panic attack

Word Count - 2550

A/N - This is a collaboration with @miss-nerd95/. @bucky--barnes . It has been planned and written by both of us. This will be a two parter! Hope you like it.

Spn dividers by @talesmaniac89

You threw your head back, groaning in frustration. There wasn't a single piece of clothing that you felt was appropriate for your date. Skimming through the closet for the third time, you glared at all the different pieces of flannels, flip side of being a hunter, before you finally noticed the long floral dress at the back of your closet.

“This will work,” you muttered to yourself as you picked the dress, happy that you found something worthy.

Dean Winchester, a name that was enough to make the demons of hell and the angels of heaven tremble with fear but for you he was just Dean, the man who had successfully stolen your heart at the very first ‘hello’, so you needed the date to be perfect. Even though you were head over heels for him, you never uttered a single word about how you felt and neither did he. The fear of being rejected by him, hearing him say that he didn't feel the same kept your mouth sealed shut for a long time.

So it all came as a surprise when you were lying on the bed in a motel room with aching muscles because of a rough hunt and mind filled with the vicious words exchanged between you and Dean and the door to your room slightly opened, revealing the said man standing in the doorway with an unreadable look on his face. It all happened so quickly as Dean crossed the room in long strides to stand at the foot of your bed and confess his feelings for you, no longer wanting to hide it in case something bad happened.

After putting on your dress, as you touched up on your makeup, you smiled softly remembering the fond memory of his lips on yours for the first time that night before he asked you out on date. You looked at yourself in the mirror feeling content with how you looked.

Yet unbeknownst to you, Dean was running around in the bunker like a headless chicken trying to plan the perfect date.

“Will you sit down for a minute?” Sam rolled his eyes at his brother who was pacing across the war room, eyes focused on the floor, lost in thought.

“She loves junk food right?” Dean asked, at which all Sam wanted to do was punch him.

“You know her better than me, but to answer your question, yes, she loves all those greasy food items which increase your body cholesterol. No wonder you're made for each other, but I really feel sorry for when you'll have kids,” the younger Winchester smirked.

“Stop teasing, you don't get it! I love her, Sammy-”

“I don't get it? Dude, I was the one who was sick of both of you dancing around each other,” Sam grumbled, “if it wasn't for me pushing you out of that door back after that hunt, you wouldn't have asked her out. Now stop freaking out like a fifteen year old going on his first date!”

“I'm not freaking out. I'm just nervous,” Dean said.

“Wow, would you look at that? Dean Winchester, the ladies’ man, is nervous about a date,” Sam chuckled.

“Shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes at the green eyed hunter for the second time that morning, “She makes me nervous. What if I fuck up?”

“Don't worry. Everything will be fine. I just can't believe I'm the one giving you dating advice right now.”

“Shut. Up. And I know it's going to be fine. I have it all planned out. A visit to the aquarium and then a little picnic underneath the stars, she's going to fall in love with me,” Dean made a sound which resembled a giggling teenage boy.

Sam was grinning until he processed the words. “Wait. An aquarium?”

“Yeah, why are you saying it like that-”

“Dean,” you stepped into the war room, interrupting the brothers. Out of habit, you were about to bite your lip but you remembered the lipstick you had put on, so you just settled for playing with the ring on your finger, waiting for their reaction.

Both the Winchesters just stared at you, mouth opened which made you more anxious. Was there something on your face? Shit, you looked around the War Room where Dean had asked you to meet once you were ready, why didn't they have any mirrors in here?

Clearing your throat, you shifted your gaze on the man standing beside his brother, the latter sitting on one of the chairs of the table. He looked dapper in the dark jean jacket which he traded for his usual plaid and contrasted it with a plain white tee he wore underneath Although you loved seeing him wrapped in flannel,this new look of his made you go weak in the knees and you sure would have melted into a puddle on the spot had Sam not interrupted your thoughts.

"You look beautiful, Y/N." He harshly nudged Dean, at which the latter glared at him before looking back at you. Nodding, he almost sounded like he was in a daze. "Yeah, you look great, sweetheart."

You blushed, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, "Thank you, you don't look too bad yourself. Shall we go? You still haven't told me where we're going Dean."

Sam got up from his seat and spoke hurriedly, "Yeah about that, Dean, I don't think-"

Dean narrowed his eyes, "I'm telling you for the third time, shut up. Don't ruin the surprise."

"But-"

"Nope, we're going now. Sweetheart, are you comfortable in those heels? We may have to walk a bit."

You waved goodbye at Sam, who dejectedly sat back down, pinching the bridge of his nose once you were out of the door. This was going to end in a disaster.

“Milady.” Dean held Baby's door open for you, one hand on the handle and another on the window of the black impala. The tips of his ears turned red when your hand touched his as you slid into the passenger's seat.

You gave him a nervous smile, as he walked to the other side and got into the driver's side, pulling the Impala out of the Bunker’s garage

You looked out of the window as Baby’s engine purred, the scenery familiar as you drove out. Glancing at him, you prodded, "Can you please tell me where we're going? You know I don't like surprises."

Dean's tongue peeked out to sweep across his bottom lip, as he stole a glance your way. He chuckled before focusing back on the road.

"You'll find out when we get there." You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms indignantly as you looked away.

"Aw, sweetheart don't be like that." Rolling your eyes, you held in a smile as you shook your head. "Not until you tell me where we're going."

Dean laughed at your pout, "I can just tell you that you're gonna love it.

You uncrossed your hands, your left tracing the outline of the almost rolled down window, the other on the seat beside you. A blush crept up your cheek when you felt his hand clasp yours, fingers entangling.

"I guess I'll let you off the hook just this once. But at least tell me how much time we need to get there."

He squeezed your hands in his as he beamed at you, eyes shining. "We're almost there. We ain't leaving Kansas City."

And so you relaxed as you moved closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder until a huge building with 'Sea Life' written on it with pictures of the habitats of the same appeared in front of you.You visibly paled as you realized that the Aquarium was where you were heading, thankful that Dean couldn't see your face.

"We're going in there?"

You felt him nod lightly. "Yup!"

Why he didn't notice the quiver in your voice you didn't know, but you surely heard the excitement in his as he parked the car. And that's when you decided, you were going to tough it out, everything else be damned.

After all, it wasn't everyday that you went on dates with Dean; if you could face the vampires that killed your parents, you could certainly walk through those rooms which had glass separating you from water and the creatures-

Nope, you weren't going to think about it.

But as he got out of the car and walked towards your side, offering his hand to you with a shy smile, you returned it. You climbed out of Baby, taking his hand into yours.

Well, this could work if you put all of your attention on Dean instead of, uh… your surroundings.

You could feel your heart beating loudly against your chest as you walked through the doors, Dean showing them the tickets and the hopeful look he sent your way made you swallow your apprehension and the request him to move your date someplace else. You nodded at him, somehow conjuring up a small smile for his sake.

Showing you the small catalogue, he started listing the types of the creatures that were in the aquarium, telling you that there was a special exhibit they had just built and couldn't wait to see it. You could tell that he had planned this out and you just couldn't mess it up. You knew he was loving the aquarium tour since you had seen him spending time in the Dean Cave - watching Shark week.

His hand was still in yours as he pulled you towards the first tank and you immediately closed your eyes when you saw that you were nearing the big blue filled with small blobs of other colors, not realizing that you had stopped until you felt a tug, opening them to see beautiful green orbs narrowed in concern.

"You okay, Y/N?"

You bit your bottom lip, a small "Yeah," coming out of your mouth, hoping he was convinced.

Well, as it turned out, he did. You shoved your face in his shoulder, thankful for the double layers on his skin because he couldn't feel your breaths becoming rapid as the room became colder the further you walked in, but at least you had Dean, a literal human furnace to distract you, his hand warm in yours.

"You're excited right?" His voice was giddy as he asked. "Of course," you answered, cringing at the high pitch of yours.

When you finally reached it, you left his side to go to the small metal plate at one end of the exhibit bearing the information as he looked at the fishes, "Hey Y/N, you gotta see this one, it's called an Angel fish. It looks awesome with streaks of brown and black. Don't you think it kinda looks like Cas?" You laughed at that, but you weren't going to look at the fish, not even if your life depended on it.

"Yeah! Click a picture to show Sam later. This is really interesting," you pointed at the small panel without turning your gaze.

Well that trick of yours worked for the rest of the tanks. At least for some time it worked.

Dean slipped his hand back into yours, squeezing it, "Now it's time for the special thing I told you about." You didn't know if you were feeling offended or worried that Dean didn't notice the way you were behaving.

A wry smile tugged at your lips as you saw what he was referring to. It was a dome, a tunnel you had to walk through while the water surrounded you from three sides, and you shook your head, pulling him away from the entrance of the tunnel.

"Hey, you know what Dean, we haven't kissed once during our date. It feels wrong, let's go make out in the washrooms or something." He was taken aback by your sudden brashness but he licked his lips, a smirk etching on his face, "I did think of it, but I wanna make this as cheesy as possible. I wanna kiss you on the second part of the date."

All colour drained from your skin as your eyes widened, "What second part?"

And for the first time that day, Dean frowned which made you feel bad. "I thought that this was going good. I had just planned a picnic after this. Don't worry, if you're not having fun, we can directly go home. The exit is at the end of the tunnel."

You groaned in frustration. "No, no! I'm having fun. Trust me, I am enjoying this! Now let's go." You had survived without any mishap till now and you could do this. All you had to do was walk. Or so you thought.

The moment you stepped in, Dean hurried to the glass, you decidedly not looking anywhere else but the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Y/N look, a shark!" He grabbed your face moving your head towards it and your breath caught in your throat and not in a good way.

You trembled, pushing Dean away to sit down, your head cradled in your hands as you pulled your knees closer, trying to think about something else but even with your eyes closed, the blue glow given off in the silent environment still seeped in through your eyelids and all you could think of was the big fish on the other side of the glass.

You didn't know what happened next, all you could feel was the rapid pounding of your heart, your sweaty hands and not being able to breathe.

Dean kneeled next to you, dumbstruck at how the date went sideways, unable to know what was happening or do anything, fear creeping in as he froze. Normally he was quick at thinking on gun point, but seeing you on the floor like that puzzled him. “Sweetheart, what is it?Please say something.”

You tried to talk but you couldn't. You were shaking and it was impossible for you to form any sort of coherent words. “I-out.” You choked out .And that was all it took for Dean to get into action, putting one arm under your knees and another on your back as he picked you up in bridal style, making sure that your dress was positioned properly before running out of the exit towards the Impala. He could feel you shiver in his arms, cursing under his breath as he quickly unlocked the car and sat you on the back seat.

He held your hands, rubbing your palms, blowing on them as he whispered, "Hey, look at me. You're okay. We're out of there. We're never going in again. Breathe. I'm here with you." Over and over again in your ears.

You tried matching your breath with his as you eventually calmed down. You took a few minutes as your breath evened out before you opened your eyes, only to see the worry in those beautiful green ones again.

The ride back to the Bunker was short and silent. You didn't say anything, you didn't know what to say, feeling that it was your fault as you looked at Dean's scrunched up eyebrows through your peripheral vision.

What you didn't know was that Dean felt the exact same.

Let us know if you want to be tagged in the next part (Part 2)

Feedback is highly appreciated!

[heistmaster69]

pariet lilium (2)

pariet lilium

pariet lilium by @heistmaster69 chapter two

A/N: ive accepted that nobody will ever read this and im chill with that but if you do read this let me know pls ALSO TO MY FIRST FOLLOWER/MUTUAL @fanficflaneuse THANK YOU SO MUCH this is dedicated to you love! 

a chill 1.5k words

chapter one

~

“Sorry, Reed. They told me to.”

Frankie’s eyes jolted open. She felt afraid, alone. Her face was stiff and her eyes were full of tears. They ached, as did her chest. She sat up steadily and leaned against her bed frame, wiping a few stray tears with her sleeves. She grasped at her sternum, trying to ease what felt like a fifty-pound weight crushing her lungs. The tears were still falling, she had a lump in her throat, and she was coated in a sticky layer of sweat. It felt like the air in the dormitories was thick with dust. 

Frankie pushed her blankets aside and brushed her dark hair out of her face. A gentle light from the common room illuminated the room enough so she could see, so she stepped down, feeling the cold stone on her feet as she walked to the bathroom. The squeak of the faucet and the cold water dripping down her face didn’t do much to ease her. She needed a hug, and she wanted one from him.  Frankie pulled her quilt off of the bed and walked down to the common room to find some calm in a cup of coffee and the fire. After getting her mug, she heard a voice.

“Chess.” Draco sighed. His nickname for her. He sat in an armchair, blonde hair a mess, bags under his eyes with and a strange kind of emotion swimming within them.

“Merlin, did you sleep?” Frankie stepped toward the armchair, moving to stand in front of him. He couldn’t look at her. “Draco?”

He shook his head.

“Was it him again?” She sat on the rug in front of him, resting her forearms on his knees. 

“I could ask you the same question.” He met her gaze and she saw what was in his eyes. Fear. 

It’s no lie that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. The most loyal of them all. After what happened in the Chamber of Secrets last year, Draco’s nightmares had been full of him. His father returning to the Dark Lord and pulling Draco down alongside him. Frankie’s dreams were daisies compared to the thunderstorms of Draco’s, but he understood her. They understood each other.

“Yeah.” She looked away. “I just feel stupid. I should’ve known or something.”

Draco moved her face to meet his eyes, bringing his hand up to wipe away one of her tears. “What he did to you was a right awful move, Frankie. You didn’t deserve it.” Draco grabbed her coffee and took a swig like it was firewhiskey.

“He thought so.” She scoffed. “I can’t even say his name, let alone hear it. It’s such a stupid thing to be messed up about-I’m sorry, are you even alright?”

The two sat in silence for a minute, a few minutes.

“He’s trying to come back, Chess.” His voice broke. “I’m terrified.”  He sounded so scared and it broke her heart. 

In one fell swoop, Draco pulled Frankie off the floor and onto him. She immediately hugged him. She needed this as much as he did. As she felt his cries, she began to break into strangled sobs.

They sat there, holding each other, until the sun began to rise.

~

No one should have to take Divination this early in the morning. Trelawney babbled on about tea leaves and how they show the future, when really, all Frankie saw in Theo’s teacup was a blob.

“Franks-”

“What is it with you boys and saying everything but my name?” Frankie, Francesca, Chess, and now Frank. “It’s only a little funny.”

“Not my problem, Frank, but what is my problem is these tea leaves. I’m seeing something very exciting-Blaise- come take a look at this!” Blaise turned from his table with Draco, peering into Theo’s teacup. 

“Woah, Francesca!” He exclaimed, nudging Draco to take a look as well, but he must’ve missed the joke, because he just looked confused. 

Theo showed her the leaves, it looked like two-oh.

“Well it looks like your prophecy’s come true, Frankster.” He smirked.

“Go on, Theodore.” She laughed.

“Well here, you see, it says that you have some massive knockers!” Blaise, Theo, Crabbe, Goyle and most of the boys in the near vicinity burst in to laughter, Frankie with them, shaking her head. 

“Shove off, Zabini.” Cher laughed. Pansy and Daphne began throwing crumpled up sheets of paper at the boys. 

Frankie noticed that Draco snuck a glance.

Daphne piped up. “Cher, don’t worry, Theodore can’t help it. He wants you too bad.” The boys led a chorus of oohs, shoving him and snickering.

Frankie couldn’t stop herself from seeing how Draco reacted.

He didn’t.

~

Frankie day in the library, sitting in between to rows of books. She was piling up a stack of books on spells, spell creation, and the Unforgivables when she saw a blur of bright blonde hair.

“Malfoy? Malfoy-”

He interrupted. “I’m sorry about the boys, earlier.”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “If you actually cared about me you would know that I didn’t give a single-”

“-I care about you Chess-where the hell is this coming from?” He walked up to her and leaned against the stacks.

Salazar, did I say that out loud? “I was only joking, dimwit.”

"If this is about last night-" He started.

"What about last night?" Frankie's heart rate began to accelerate.

"Nothing-I-It just happens often, not that I mind, Merlin I do not mind, but I was just hoping that I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything." He is so cute. Wait-no, no he's not.

"You didn't, I was thinking the same thing, actually." She let out s quiet giggle, not seeing the blush that crept up his neck.

"How would you make me uncomfortable?"

"I don't know. I must've been crushing you or something. Plus I'm definitely not on the top of anyone's list of People They'd Want To Cuddle. Most people just see me as the fat girl who no one would want to shag."

"Who wouldn't want to shag-" He coughed, praying that she didn't hear that. "I mean, you were definitely not crushing me, and Chess, cuddling you was a very nice experience."

Frankie chuckled to herself, turning back to her book. "Thanks, Malfoy."

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He sat down across from her. “What are you reading?”

“About the Killing Curse.” She didn’t look up from the book, but she wasn’t focusing on the words anyway.

“Merlin, Chess. How wonderful.” They shared a laugh.

“Do you know what a Horcrux is, Malfoy?” Frankie looked up, pointing at a picture on the tattered pieces.

“Well it sounds lovely. What is it?”

“It’s disgusting. When you use the killing curse, you break your soul, and it can sort of create immortality, in a twisted way.”

“Immortality? So by using the curse, you save your soul to live another, well, someone else’s lifetime.”

“That’s the point. It’s really creepy.” Frankie tossed the book to him.

“It says here that Herpo the Foul used them to-bloody hell that’s disgusting!” He tossed the book back to her with a grimace.

“A Horcrux can be created by anyone who commits murder, if they want to.”

“I wonder if You-Know-Who made those.” Draco wondered. “I mean, my father told me stories that would make your skin crawl, and he was always blabbing about immortality and being invincible-” His face fell.

“Malfoy, do you think-”

“No,”

No.

“Oh my god, Malfoy. Oh my god.” Frankie threw the book and scrambled to her feet as Draco did as well. “Bloody, god, Merlin, oh my god!”

He was panting heavily, Frankie grabbed fistfuls of her hair, feeling nauseated.

“I think I’m gonna be sick, Chess, Merlin.”

“He-” She looked him dead in the eye. “He did that, didn’t he?” 

“Bloody hell Chess, Salazar-” He stared into her soul, and reached to grab her sleeve. “We’ve got to tell Snape.”

~

“And why, might I ask, were you researching Horcruxes to begin with, Miss Reed?”

“Professor, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you-” Frankie panted, still freaking out.

“Why is it important? What’s important is that the Dark-I mean You-Know-Who is still alive.” Draco shouted. 

“Malfoy, It’s fine. Professor I believe there is a way to reverse the effects of the Killing Curse, and Horcruxes are the key to figuring it out. It’s a strange loophole, I guess.” Frankie sat down next to Draco.

Professor Snape scoffed, but the two could tell that there was a strange gleam in his eye. “There is no cure for the Killing Curse-”

“It’s not a cure, Snape. It would separate the soul of the dead with the piece of the soul of the killer and return it to the dead’s body somehow I just haven’t figured out-you know what-I’m not an idiot, I’ve been studying this for my entire life-”

“He Who Must Not Be Named has not returned, Francesca. Ten points from each of you for wasting my time with your childish nonsense and being out after curfew.” He stood up and went into his quarters with a flourish of his robe. 

Frankie hadn’t even realized that Draco had been holding her hand the entire time.

~

A/N: okay so i know that this isn’t as long as the last one, but i felt it was a good place to stop. I’m going ultimate slowburn slow with this fic lol. pls let me know what u think ! love you all ! mwah.

[hollandroos]

How Could I Not? | Three

Playlist | My Masterlist | Wattpad | Series masterlist

Tom Holland x Reader | Fwb with an unexpected pregnancy added in the mix. 

Summary: You and Tom are only supposed to be friends... friends who sometimes take things a step further and friends who can’t seem to spend longer then a few days apart. But that can all change with a positive pregnancy test. Suddenly you have to work together more then ever to prepare for the new life you created. But is it really that easy?

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: Pregnancy and a FWB relationship. I’m kind of :// about this chapter but after this, things are going to get reallyyyyy good ;) Please remember to reblog and share if you liked this chapter and this series!! honestly, I love writing this but I write it a lot faster when it gets good feedback :)

The baby was merely a baby. You probably couldn’t even call it a baby. The doctor had said that the thing was merely the size of a blueberry and so Tom had taken to calling it that for now. His fickle, only just existent blueberry. Tom and you both ignored the fact that he hated blueberries, always finding them too sour or too bland because you loved them.

Your creation was yet to have limbs like arms and legs or a face, yet the blueberry sized figure had fetal organs and a working heart. Yet those had merely just formed and it’s a wild concept to think about, really. It was even harder to comprehend when the sonogram only showed an alien-like blob. Not a blueberry, a blob.

It was the heartbeat that brought you to tears, however. It was small and the room went dead silent– not even the sound of Toms exasperated breathing could be heard as you both waited in anticipation, holding the others hand with a deathly grip. But the second the dull beating filled the room you dropped his hand, allowing his paper white knuckles to breathe for the first time since you entered the room.

You were seven weeks and three days. Your baby had forming fetal limbs, a heartbeat and was the size of a blueberry. The best part? The developing baby was healthy.

If Tom remembers correctly, seven weeks ago Harrison went away to see his parents for the weekend and the two of you took to staying in his and Toms shared flat. If he remembers correctly, you two had stayed up until eleven playing video games and shared bowls of overcooked popcorn before crashing in his room surrounded by clothes that you had demanded he clean. (To which he had the very next day)

Two pocket-sized pictures of the blueberry sized, alien-like blob with a heartbeat and no limbs had been printed out and taken in two sets of shaky hands. Thank yous had been muttered by nervous expecting parents and yeah–, the drive back to yours was dead silent and you barely said a goodbye as you clambered inside and Tom was left outside the apartment building sitting behind the wheel of his run-down car, contemplating whether or not he wanted to go home for a few moments before he flicked his indicator on and did a three-point turn.

He didn't go home then. He spent a night at his brothers, crashing on the couch instead of his own bed that sat empty for another day. A mere few texts were sent back and forth between the two of you as well as a few photos on Instagram– funny animal pictures to be exact. Tom refrained from sending photos of baby outfits he stumbled across, or stuffed animals.

By staying with his brothers, Tom was, in a way, running from his problems. But you weren't the problem. The problems were the list of questions he’d be bombarded with when he pulls up to his shared apartment.

He knew what was waiting for him at home. Surely, it was Harrison. With possibly a hundred and one questions and confusion– confusion was a sure one, it’d be written all over the blondes face. Strung up in his eyes and shown in the way he’d purse his lips and screw up his nose.  

So when Tom opens the front door of his apartment, keys jingling in the palm of his hand and the blonde dives out of his seat, tugging at his navy blue t-shirt to unstick it from wet (post-shower) skin, Tom isn’t surprised in the slightest. The boy already looked frantic and he’d barely laid eyes on Tom yet.

“Y/N’s pregnant and it’s yours?!” He exclaims, asking as if it were a question when Harrison knew– boy did he already know, that it was, in fact, a statement.

Tom wants to groan. He wants to sigh and he wants to remain silent all at the same time. But the same questions would still remain an hour from now. 2 days from now. Three weeks from now.

“Okay, yes, but you have to hear me–” He begins. By now, Tom could practically taste his own exhaustion– then again, that could’ve been the handful of cereal he had for breakfast. As if it wasn’t enough that the bags beneath his eyes were larger then saucers.

“What the fuck?” Harrison utters. Harrison runs a hand through tangled locks and after nearly three days of only receiving a few mere texts from Tom, he felt that his interrogation was valid.

“It wasn’t meant to happen.” Tom quips, eyeing the fridge.

“So you just accidently had sex?” Harrison puts emphasis on the word ‘accidentally��� and Tom groans, having yelled at himself enough lately. The last thing he needed was for Harrison to turn on him– no, the last thing he needed was for you to turn on him, Harrison was a close second.

Tom shrugs his shoulders, dumping his keys down on the kitchen table. He spots a few empty beer bottles sitting on the kitchen table and nearly snorts, relishing in the fact that Harrison had broken into the beer fridge while he was out for the night. Okay– maybe there’s more than a few bottles, clearly he had someone over with him but Tom doesn’t ask. Not yet at least.

“It’s not really an accident if it happens multiple times, is it?” Tom retorts. He was too tired and far too overwhelmed to be yelled at. The bags beneath his eyes should’ve been evidence enough.

His mate chokes. “You fucking what?” He exclaims “Tom, that’s your best friend– she’s our best friend.”

“Didn’t know the two of you were so close.” Tom remains where he stood, somehow halfway between the kitchen and the living room. He frowns. “It just happened one day, okay– one day when we both just needed something and we were there for each other and it just stuck. It never got in the way of our friendship.”

Harrison grips the side of the kitchen table. He was used to Tom making silly decisions and he was used to having to tell Tom when he had possibly done the wrong thing. Tom did the same for Haz but this came as a shock. And in this situation, Harrison had already assumed that he didn’t have the right to tell Tom whether or not he’d messed up. Still, Harrison shakes his head.  He always saw you two as close– if you weren’t together when you were texting and if you weren’t texting then Tom was exclaiming something the two of you had done the day before.

But you and Harrison were close too, ever since you met when he came into your work with an ex-girlfriend of his on his arm.

Harrison had read enough books, listened to enough podcasts and heard far too many stories of heartache to know that the whole friends with benefits ordeal was never just friends with benefits. He’d also heard success stories in his time and he knew enough to know that you and Tom couldn’t just be friends with benefits.

There wasn’t a single universe in which you weren’t supposed to fall into each other's arms or crumble under the expectation to do so.

Maybe he should’ve seen this coming. Maybe it wasn’t the sleeping together part that shocked him but the fact that you were pregnant– yeah, okay, that wasn’t a maybe, that was a definite. You were the girl that joined them for Saturday night drinks, who always offered first to be the sober driver despite protest all around because they wanted it to be fair– but you just wanted everyone to have a good time. You’re the one Tom talks about like you’re the reason he wakes up every morning with a smile on his face.

“How long?” The blond ceases his thinking.

“What do you mean ‘how long?” Tom questions. Harrison gives him a mere glance, one that tells him just to ‘answer the damn question’ and he groans. “Few months I guess.”

Tom knew exactly how long it’d been.

“Since Amy–”

That was a no go, an untouched subject that made Toms blood boil and head tick.

“Don’t.” Tom snaps, tugging his coat off and throwing it over the back of the couch. You would’ve scolded him for that one. There was a coat hanger right next to the door for a reason. “Don’t bring her into this. This is between me and Y/N. Amy was forgotten ages ago.”

There’s no space for silence as the two go back and forth, arguing about the topic at hand while another one loomed directly over their heads. Poor Tessa, a blue staffy listened in from the other side of the living room with her head in her hands and the desire to rest.

Harrison, with arms crossed across his chest and furrowed brows pipes up again. “Amy screwed you over and you went to Y/N–”

“I said don’t, I’m over that and Y/N knew what happened that night and things evolved from there. Why are we talking about our sleeping arrangements when I just told you that Y/N’s pregnant anyway?”

Harrison scoffs. “The pregnancy happened because of your sleeping arrangements. You’re going to be a dad– most people fall in love before that part happens.”

Tom already knows that he loves you. He knows that he loves you enough to stick around and take responsibility for this and he loves you enough to eat stale crackers on your apartment floor with the same movie he’d see four times playing. He loves you enough to let you raid his closet when you need a plain white tee or a beanie and he loves you enough to ignore the flirty glances of the girl you work with who he knows hates your guts.

Your friendship reached lengths untouched for others like being able to call the other your best friend after an argument that may leave one of you in tears and the other smacking clenched fists against the front door begging for forgiveness. It reached the two of you tangled up in a set of sheets no matter what hour of the day. Panting, sweaty, needy.

“I know you think that this is insane– it is fucking insane and it wasn’t meant to happen but it did. Y/N is still my best friend, nothing less and I’m going to be there for her and our baby as best I can. This is our normal now and for the next nine months I have to be present for that.”

Tom didn’t regret this. He couldn’t, and he certainly didn’t regret you.

“So you’ve really thought about this, huh?” Harrison steps forward, sock covered feet pointed towards Tom.

Harrison had no doubts that Tom was in this for the long haul, especially considering it was you. The one he talks about continuously like you’re the reason he’s still breathing, as if you were the one being that puts the stars in the sky and is the reason the sun comes up every morning. The one who Tom has endless love and patience for.

Platonic soulmates existed and Harrison knew that much. Because he’d seen enough proof that you were Toms and he was yours.

“I have, but there’s nothing else to consider. Being there for that baby is what I want and it’s what she needs.” Tom picks his wallet up from the counter and digs around for a moment before he stumbles upon the thing he was looking for. Sliding it out, he passes the sonograms to Harrison.  “This is my baby, she’s seven weeks old and she’s the size of a blueberry but soon she’ll have limbs. We heard her heartbeat.”

Harrison raises a brow but softens upon seeing the sonogram and after seeing how content his best friend is on this. Tom was right, the baby was merely a dot– a blob

“She?” He questions, spotting the date at the very bottom of the photo that told him it was taken just yesterday.

Tom shrugs his shoulders, taking back the photo. “I have a hunch.” He says it like it’s nothing. “You’ve seen me and Y/N do wild, unimaginable things together… this is just our next adventure.”

Harrison hesitates, ocean eyes glazing over with fresh tears. “I know you guys can do this, I know you can but–”

“But you’re just worried?” Tom stops him before he can continue, taking the sonogram back and tucks it safely in his wallet. “I’m worried too but I know that I don’t have to go through this by myself. You’re allowed to be worried for me, but I also want you to support me here.”

Harrison sees the look of pure seriousness on Tom's face. In all of their years of friendship, that look had come out a maximum of five times. Once when Tom talked about dropping out of uni, another time when he punched your ex-boyfriend in the face and nearly got arrested. The blonde can’t help but purse his lips.

“Of course I am, you’re one of my best friends.” He lets out a sigh. “But I better be the godfather of that baby.”

And just like that, Tom feels a weight lifted off of his shoulders. He still feels heavy knowing that his and your parents were next– the true critics, but as Harrison's arms wrap around him and tug him into a brotherly hug he feels light.  “Congratulations, mate.”

Tom relaxes his shoulders, patting his mate on the back and accepts that it was out in the open now. Soon, everyone would know whether you tell them or not thanks to the inevitable bump.

“Also, I wasn’t supposed to tell you yet,” Tom adds, moving out of Harrison's arms. “Just keep it quiet until we tell our parents, yeah? And besides, if Y/N finds out I told you she’ll have a go.”

Harrison makes a promise to keep it to himself for now, as well as making a joke about practising his shocked expressions in the mirror later. His last sentence was a promise, one unspoken but a promise nonetheless. He was going to be there for both of you, the guy on the side.

Even then, Tom couldn’t say he was out of the woods, not by a long shot but he felt supported and he could only hope that he had done everything in his ability to make you feel the same.

The what if’s briefly storm his mind, fogging every other thought. But that’s before he allows himself to strip off and be enveloped by a cloud of steam and finally, he’s welcomed into his own shower.

And while he’s in the shower, Tom stands under the heavy flow of humid water and allows beads to make its way through his hair, flattening curly strands and pressing them against his forehead. Everything he seemed to know– or thought he knew from a week before then trickle down bare legs and run down the drain, tangled between every one of Toms fears and insecurities.

He doesn’t want to grab the soap or the scrubber– because he doesn’t want to remove the feeling of your fingertips digging into the backs of his hand or your arm looped through his as you exited the clinic. He doesn’t want to forget the feeling of your nimble fingers toying with his own and how much the two of you had relied on each other. He felt breathless thinking about it. Breathless because he was lucky to have a best friend as incredible as you.

-

Tom sees’ you again three days later.

You walk into the bar at just past ten with your bag tucked tightly under your arm and a subway in one hand, phone in the other. Tom is serving someone when he first sees you and for a moment a wide grin takes place on his features and he forgets that he’s supposed to be serving before he quickly apologises, giving the girl a glass of their finest after she flashed her credit card at the bartender.

He can’t help it when he sees you, even with your hair drawn back and light makeup that tells him you had been working earlier that day. Either it was that or the fact that you were still wearing your name badge- either way, he can tell.

There’s music playing through the speakers, filling the bar with beats that if he had the choice, Tom wouldn’t have chosen. He knows they’re meant to put you in the mood to dance but Tom feels tired, he feels hungry and he feels over the late shifts that’d been getting the best of him lately. A headache was inevitable.

“Hey,” He smiles warmly, fighting to keep his voice above the music. Thought it’s tough in his current state.

You muster up the most sympathetic smile you can after seeing how drained he looked. It didn’t take a genius, surely and you wonder why he hadn’t been sent home yet.

“Harrison told me that you worked extra yesterday and I know you had work tonight and you always forget to take food.” You reach out to hand him the sub and Tom eyes it for a moment, bags beneath his eyes telling you that he possibly needed a little more sleep. “I got your favourite, don’t worry.” You reassure him.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in after successfully catching your words above the sound of the music and raging people, partying like there was no tomorrow. Tom just wanted to go home.

As long as you had known Tom he had been almost too selfless. A little cocky at times and some of his remarks made you groan his name in a way you certainly didn’t between the sheets but he was selfless, that much was for sure. Sometimes so much so that he would refuse to turn down shifts until he was at the brink.

“Will you eat with me?” He asks pleads, feeling his stomach rumble as he takes the subway from you. The chicken sub is heavy in his hand and he swears he could engulf the entire thing then and there.

You hear the uncertainty in his voice. “Bout time you asked.”

Tom warns his coworker before slipping out the back with you, not before his coworker gets to ask you how you’ve been but you tell him that you can’t talk after answering two of his questions- for Tom tugs on your shirt, leaning against the doorframe impatiently. The sub in his hand had his taste buds pleading.

You fall back onto the ragged old couch, cheap leather squeaking as you get comfortable. It does the same for Tom, only he rarely has to move and the two of you aren’t allowed even a moments silence as music plays through the walls. The sound of ripping paper fills the voice as you both take out your food.

Tom is the first to speak up, offering a dull, repetitive question.

“Anything interesting happen for you at work today?”

You think for a moment. “The girl that literally hates my guts actually said hi to me, that was weird.” You say, screwing your face up slightly. “What about you? Anything somewhat interesting happen to you today?”

“There was nearly a fight earlier over something ‘m not too sure what but they were both wasted. Then I caught another guy trying to spike some girls drink and I kicked him out, got her a cab home.”

You pick at your sub, picking out little pieces of lettuce and tomato. “Prince charming.” You snort.

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a small, half-hearted laugh.

One thing you loved about Tom was that he wasn’t a loud chewer and for a few moments, he chews away at the sandwich and you’re allowed to think without your thought process being interrupted by the obnoxious sound of lips smacking together and food slopping between teeth and tongue. Your stomach does little flips, fatigue nearly as visible in your eyes as it was his.

“Tom?” You ask. He responds with a simple hum, one that escapes the back of his throat using what little energy he has left. You feel your heart shatter. “We don’t have to talk, yeah?”

There's an eerie silence for a few moments– or as silent as it can be with music fighting through the hollow cracks in the wall. He agrees with your question– or was it a statement? Whatever it was, Tom savours the taste of oat and honey bread, adorned with chicken and ranch dressing on his tongue after a long shift. You, enjoy pieces of dry lettuce after having lost your appetite long ago.

After his last bite, Tom doesn’t hesitate to let his head fall onto your shoulder. You don’t falter, hand going straight to his curls as they run through the tangles in his hair, rolling soft curls between your fingertips and Tom breathes softly against you. Usually, you’re the one laying against him but Tom has no problem showing you his vulnerabilities.

“Wanna go home?” You speak softly, easing your hand through his hair and down the side of his face, teasing his jawline with nimble fingers.

Tom murmurs something against your shoulder. He was drifting off right there. “Can’t, gotta work.”

“You’re hardly busy, I’ll tell Jake that you’re too tired to stay. You need to take care of yourself now more than ever.” Your fingers falter, going down to his arm and you tug him up softly. Tom is heavy against your side, resting most of his weight in your waiting grasp. “Let me look after my best friend, yeah?”

Best friend.

How could he say no?

PART 4

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[helloalycia]

the stars // carol danvers

summary: you’ve always loved the stars, but you’d never pictured yourself falling love with the woman who fell from them. 

warning/s: none.

author’s note: I wrote this at like 2am and I'm on my period and I was all up in my feels, listening to 'wide awake' by Katy Perry as you do, so this may be a lil mushy - also whY am I so single ugh

masterlist

         "Look! There's another! And another! And another! And–"

        "And another, yes, dear," my mum laughed. "It's the sky. It's covered in stars."

        I didn't tear my eyes from the night sky, not even for a second. I was mesmerised, a grin on my lips as I took in the vastness of it all. It was endless and my eyes couldn't keep up with star after star after star.

        "I want to be up there," I whispered.

        "Maybe one day," my mum said, squeezing my hand.

        We were both laying down, side by side, in the garden grass.

        "Do you think there's aliens up there?" I asked, my mind racing with possibilities "Staring up at the sky like us? Or maybe even looking down from there at us?"

        My mum hummed with thought. "There could be. Would you like that, Y/N?"

        I finally looked her way, eyes wide with excitement. "Yes."

        She chuckled, watching me look back up at the sky with awe. I just couldn't get over it. The sky looked like a blanket, dotted with glitter. Except it was a whole other part of the universe. It was infinite. And I was so small in that infinity, yet that didn't bother me. It warmed my heart to the core.

        "I hope there's someone out there," I mumbled, mostly to myself. "It would be an awful waste if there wasn't."

***

        I'd spent all of my life being in love with the stars. Spending most nights looking up at them if they were visible, whether that be laying outside in the grass or looking out my window. All these years later, now an adult, and I still found myself in a state of awe when I looked up and saw the endless blanket of stars above. I was speechless every time, feeling like anything I said in appreciation just wouldn't suffice.

        Spending my life loving the stars never prepared me for falling in love with someone who fell from the stars. Carol Danvers was her name, and even though she was technically born on Earth, she'd lived amongst the stars for quite some time.

        She was beautiful, a star herself. With sparkling brown eyes and blonde curls, she seemed like an average human. But then she would glow and shoot photon blasts from her hands, showing the difference between her and I. She was powerful, a god amongst mortals, myself included. And yet, she made me feel like the most important person alive.

        Her smile, brighter than any star in the sky, would send my stomach into a frenzy. Her touch, warmer than any photon blast she could create, sent shivers all over my body. Her touch, more comforting than any universe could allow, made me melt in her arms. I loved her. It just happened to be a plus that she was from up above, where my first love truly began.

        We were outside, laying in the grass and looking up at the sky as I had done many times. I tried to take in the infinite amount of starts twinkling up above, but as usual, it left me speechless and in awe of its beauty.

        "You know, when I was a kid, I always liked to think there was someone out there, looking back down at us at this very moment," I said to Carol, my eyes still glued to the stars.

        I could see her turn her head to look at me in my peripheral. She was grinning.

        "You were right," she said, intertwining our fingers.

        I breathed out contently. "Yeah... it's amazing... actually, it's better than amazing. I can't even find the right words. It's just... wow."

        I admired the beauty before me. Knowing there was life out there amazed me further. We weren't alone, as I figured. There was loads more to discover out there, loads more people with their own lives and experiences and history. Wow.

        "You're so lucky to have been up there," I said, before biting my lip and finally looking to Carol with a mildly guilty expression. "Not that I'm condoning what happened to you, of course. That was horrible what they did to you. I'm just trying to say–"

        "I get it, it's fine," she cut me off, her smile still on her lips as she met my gaze with her warm brown eyes. "I've learnt to accept what happened to me. And part of that acceptance is appreciation, such as being able to appreciate being up there. You're right."

        I smiled with embarrassment, nodding slowly. She laughed as I looked back up to the sky.

        After a few minutes, I could still feel her gaze on me, making me nervous.

        "The stars are up there," I teased her, though I knew my cheeks were flaming hot with embarrassing.

        She merely shrugged, still not looking away from me, or losing her smile. "You're right."

        I quirked an eyebrow at her, but before I could respond, I found myself suddenly being hit with a gust of wind and being held tightly by Carol. We weren't laying down anymore – she was carrying me, holding my waist securely as I–

        "Carol! What the hell?!" I screamed, tightening my grip on her shirt as I hugged her with a slight panic. We were flying!

        I heard her laugh as she continued to fly, with me holding her for dear life, quite literally. I knew she could fly and it was amazing, but never had I flown with her. Was this even safe?!

        Her flying slowed down to an eventual halt as we were many, many, many feet off the ground – our house was almost a small blob on the ground now.

        "Look up, Y/N," she said in my ear.

        I swallowed hard, my eyes glued to the ground. "Erm..."

        I felt her kiss my neck before she said, "I've got you. You trust me, right?"

        I nodded into her shoulder, finding the strength to untuck myself from her neck. It was a strange feeling, not having something solid beneath my feet, but I knew Carol wouldn't let go of me. She had me.

        I kept one arm around her shoulder as the other held one of her hands, her other hand wrapped securely around my waist. She was very strong, I knew that, but it didn't hit me just how strong until I realised she was holding me in the air and I felt like I was floating.

        I found the courage to look up, my eyes meeting hers, and she was smiling with adoration. She motioned upwards and I took a deep breath before looking up.

        I almost forgot how to breathe when I saw the stars. As always, I was taken aback by its beauty, but this felt different somehow. There were no buildings or trees to cover parts of the sky. No, up here it was one expansive, never-ending blanket of stars that shone above us. I was amazed.

        "You like it?" Carol asked quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment.

        I grinned, nodding. "Carol..."

        I couldn't find the words. I was simply amazed. The Earth was too good for us. The universe was too good for us. All I knew was I could die right now and die a happy woman.

        "Thank you," I said, managing to tear myself from the sky to look at Carol. She was smiling at me, making me cheeks go warm. "I... you're amazing."

        She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my lips. Her grip on my waist tightened as she pulled me closer, making my stomach do somersaults at her touch.

        She pulled away, leaving me more breathless than any star ever could.

        "You deserve the universe," she told me with the utmost sincerity. "The least I could give you is the stars."

        I found myself unable to stop smiling.

        "I hate you for making me cry like an idiot," I said, feeling tears well up uncontrollably.

        She chuckled, kissing my forehead. "I love you, too."

        I leaned my head in the crook of her neck, wrapping both arms around her waist comfortably. We stayed up there that evening, I wasn't sure for how long, but I did know that once again, I was speechless by the view before me.

        And I wasn't talking about the stars.

[theentiregdtime]

If you are still taking fic requests, maybe some inebriated overly-cuddly CharMac? (Bonus points if it includes them trying to pick each other up amd falling into a giggling pile.)

“Uno!”

Charlie cackles triumphantly and waves a single card infront of Mac’s face, reveling in his victory.

“Wait… How do you only have one card?”

Granted, Mac is pretty slammed on tequila, but he reallydoesn’t think that’s right…

He glimpses down to the cards flayed out in his hand andsquints in careful contemplation at the cartoon goldfish on them.

“That’s the game, Mac!” is Charlie’s rebuttal. “You don’thave to be mad because I’m, like, way better than you, it’s okay to be aloser...”

Mac has at least three matches spread out in front of him onthe floor, and Charlie has none. In fact, it looks like he’s been stacking hiscards on top of each other for a while. How long have they been playing this? Howlong have they been on the floor of the office? What time is it?

“Dude, I… I think we’re playing Go Fish.”

Charlie raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Yeah, so are you gonnatake your turn or not, man?” He flops his last card back and forth. “’Cause I amabout to destroy you, and- and I think you’re just scared.”

“You’re supposed to have the most cards, Charlie.”Normally, Mac would argue with him, but he’s too drunk- they’re both toodrunk- to care. He snorts with laughter instead, tossing his cards onto thefloor. “You know what? Fine. You win.”

Charlie slams his last one down and throws his hands up, eithergiggling or hiccupping- Mac’s not sure- until he stops gloating and topplesbackwards onto the floor.

At first, Mac assumes he’s browning out, until he pats thefloor beside him and mumbles something incoherent. He takes it as an invitationand flops down beside Charlie like a drunken fish out of water.

Charlie points at the ceiling with a wobbly hand, as if it’staking all the strength left in his body to hold his noodle arm up without it collapsing.“Show me the pictures… like we used to do in your room.”

“It’s not a popcorn ceiling, Charlie.”

He seems confused by that, and Mac isn’t sure he has theenergy to explain to him that he doesn’t mean literal popcorn. Luckily, that’snot the response he gets.

“Well, then… use the stains.”

There are a surprising number of stains on the ceilingtiles. They should probably clean up there more often- well, Charlie should,that’s Charlie work for sure- but they have a habit of doing the bare minimumand hoping all the deep cleaning shit will work itself out when the placefinally burns down.

Mac gestures to a particularly nasty one in the corner thatsort of resembles the yuck puddle in the bathroom.

“What is that, dude?” he asks, more of an accusationthan a question.

Charlie clicks his tongue. “One of us has to dealwith the roaches, okay?”

The shudder that creeps up Mac’s spine and down hisshoulders is visceral. He’s surprised Charlie even bothers- he’s basicallynamed all the critters at he and Frank’s apartment. The way he lives is… Whatwas that word Dennis used? He can’t remember, but it’s gross, and that’sa good enough description.

“So, what is the stain?”

“Honey, dude, but that’s not-”

“Honey?”

“That’s what they say! You know, you catch more roaches withhoney-”

“None of what you’re saying is right!”

“Just- Just show me the pictures, Mac!”

Mac resigns himself with a long, dramatic sigh. His breathfeels syrupy and reeks of agave. He rolls his teeth over his bottom lip andswallows the rock of sea salt he finds there. Fighting with Charlie is usuallyuseless, and he’s too sloppy drunk to put up a fight, anyways.

He scoots closer, making sure his hand is in Charlie’sfield of vision, so he can see clearly as he traces an outline around the splotch.How much honey does it take to make a stain like that, anyways? Thatthing is a monster.

“Looks like a squid…” -he points to a smudge in the cornerof it- “holding a samurai sword.”

Charlie snickers to himself like it’s the funniest thing he’sever heard, shuffling and burying his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Hecould hold way more than one sword, though,” he remarks, but doesn’t disputethe idea otherwise.

They used to do this all the time, when they were kids. Forsome reason, Charlie always had trouble picking the images out of the ceilingpopcorn- it didn’t come naturally to him. They’d lay in Mac’s bed and he’d tellCharlie that looks like an alien eating a pineapple or that lookslike a cat on a sailboat and he’d have to take his word for it. To him, itwas all just white blobs, but he liked the stories Mac made up for him, anyways.

They stay like that, side by side on the floor, Mac paintingpictures on the ceiling by ghosting his finger over them, and Charlie chiming inhere and there to comment on his storytelling. It’s surprisingly disgusting upthere, and it’s probably even worse on the floor, but they’re both too plasteredto give a shit. When Mac comes up with a whole plot about a smear that looks like a skeleton being in love with the particularly feminine stainin the corner, but getting cucked by the squid because he has more skin,Charlie laughs so hard he snorts and falls into Mac’s shoulder. His breath islike the spit bucket at a wine tasting, but instead, it’s a nasty mix of cheapbeer, tequila, and Bloody Mary mixer. Mac doesn’t complain, though.

“What time you think it’s, man?” Charlie asks, and the wordsaren’t exactly right, but he gets the point across.

Mac lifts his arm in front of his face and stares at hiswrist. He’s not wearing a watch- he’s not sure he’s ever worn a watch,actually.

“Pro’lly late.” He hoists himself up and his stomach churnslike a washing machine full of tequila and salt and lime juice and corn chips. “Oof.”

Mac tugs at Charlie’s shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.

“C’mon, you should go home,” he insists, “or Frank’s gonnathink you’re dead and replace you with a Build-a-Bear or some weird shit.”

Charlie squints at him like he’s an offensively bright light.

“What’cha gonna do, drive me?” he chuckles. “Dennis tookyour car, like, hours ago.”

Oh, yeah… Mac was supposed to text him. He’s probably asleepby now. Whatever, it’s fine, he’ll figure it out. They just have to get off ofthe floor first.

He wraps his arms around Charlie’s shoulders and tries to lifthim to his feet, but his muscles feel like jelly and Charlie’s all slippery anduncontrollable like a feral cat.

“Come on, dude,” he groans. “Get up, bitch.”

Mac gets him a couple feet up, but he loses grip, andsomehow, they both end up rolling back down onto the floor together. His headslams onto Charlie’s chest and Charlie’s arm wraps around Mac’s neck and,before they know it, they’re both laughing so hard they can barely breathe.

“You’re not strong enough, dude,” Charlie teases, pattingMac’s deltoid. “S’all for show.”

“Hey, I could so lift you!” he retorts childishly. “I’mjust too tired right now! Also I’m, like, real drunk.”

“Sure, whatever yousay, Mac…”

The laughter diesdown and they make themselves comfortable, ignoring the cobwebs and the dustand the mysterious stickiness on the floor. It’s actually kind of cozy, onceyou get used to it. It’s cold and hard and smells like gym shoes, but overall…not bad, as far as beds go.

“This is fun,”Charlie mumbles, eyelids fluttering as he scoots into the curve of Mac’s arm. “Justyou an’ me.”

Mac realizes, yeah,it’s been a long time since they hung out- only the two of them. Sometimes Macforgets that, before all of this, before the twins and the bar and Frank- itwas just Mac and Charlie against the world. They’ll always have each other’sbacks, though, and they’ll always have their totally-not-white-trash fun- nomatter how much things change, no matter how old they get, no matter how theirlives end up. They get each other. They’re like family.

“Yeah, it is,” Macchuckles and thumps him on the shoulder. “Night, Charlie.”

Charlie’s alreadysnoring, and it isn’t long before Mac follows. His last thought, before hedrifts off to sleep (or possibly a drunken blackout), is that they definitely need to clean the ceiling in the morning.

[kpopthings]

La La Land

genre: fluff

pairing: xu minghao x reader

synopsis: minghao kept his promise. he stayed beside you like how he said he would.

words: 2.1k

closed

The first time you saw him was in a small vineyard, the colors of grapes varrying from red, purple and green, the sky being a rich blue with not a single cloud to taint it. The grass looked greener than normal with an aroma that almost made you feel at ease. And somehow you found yourself so drawn to the place that you didn't realise it was a dream.

"Hello there," the voice almost made you jump, your eyes darting from the scenery to the boy standing behind you, a chuckle resonating from his lips, "sorry if I scared you there."

You looked at him curiously before looking back at the view. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

You nodded your head, "is it yours?"

He shook his head in response, "nope, I just woke up here like you did."

"Do you know how we got here?" Again, he didn't.

"Do you thi-"

"Now enough of the questions," he cut you off, placing his hands on your shoulders to stop your anxiety, "the sun is out, the view is nice! how about we go do some exploring?" You looked at him skeptically, suspicious of his intentions, "I'm not a serial killer if that's what you're thinking," his hands then went to each of your hands, "Now come on, Let's go have some fun!"

You stayed back a bit, weighing down the pros and cons as you pressed your heels down the ground. Seeing your hesitancy, the boy's gaze softened a bit.

"Or we could stay here if you want," he said, smiling as he let his hands fall to his sides, standing right beside you, showing you that he won't leave you behind. You smiled at the gesture before nodding. A small whoop of joy escaped his lips as he took your hand excitedly, leading you through the vineyard. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Y-yeah," you replied timidly, watching your steps cautiously while the strange boy continued leading you, the grin never leaving his face as he walked. He stopped by one of the hedges, taking out some grapes before handing them to you.

"They're delicious, try some!" You looked down at the small violet spheres before popping them in your mouth. The sweetness melting in your tongue, a sound of satisfaction escaping your lips as you ate the other. "They're good, right?"

You hummed in response, sighing to yourself as you looked at the sky. The sun becoming brighter than normal as you shielded your eyes with your hand.

-

You groaned as your eyes fluttered open, a ray of sunlight peeking out your curtains as you sat up. Your body not being able to sleep again as you checked the time. Exactly two hours before uni starts. Another groan escaped your lips at the thought of the day ahead.

Great, just great.

-

You returned back home at around 9pm, your back aching due to slouching for the whole day, and the fact that you had to carry boxes  in work didn't help you that much. Not to mention the essays and projects you need to start. You grumbled under your breath as you sat down your couch, pen in hand before writing away.

You were done at around 11pm, your hand aching as you decided to call it a day. Body automatically slumping down the warm mattress of your bed as you curl up under your blanket. Your mind drifting to a dream as you sighed in contentment.

-

You found yourself in some sort of spaceship, your body floating on air while you examined your surroundings. A bunk bed sitting on one corner, a book shelf on another with a strap to hold everything in place, splatters of red and blue paint floated by you in blobs as a medium sized canvas lay by one side with a few brushes hovering beside it. You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion as a blob of paint flew towards you, your finger coming in contact with it before it divided into two. While being too preoccupied with the paint, the air suddenly felt heavier and your body began to fall, coming in contact with the ground as the door opened.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" A voice said as someone walked closer to you, helping you sit up while you rubbed the back of your head. "If I knew you were awake I should've warned you."

As you stood up, you looked down on the floor to see the paint splatters now taking place on the floor.

"Sorry about that, I was painting something when the gravity thingy kind of malfunctioned for a bit."

"Where are we?" You asked.

"Right," you heard him say, "from the looks of it we're in some kind of a spaceship."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Now now, there is no need for sarcasm, I just told you what I know," he said. "My name's Minghao by the way," he stretched his arm out for you, "what's yours?"

"Y/n," you said curtly, taking his hand in yours as you shook it.

"I didn't caught your name before," he thought out loud while nodding to himself, "you kind of disappeared before I had the chance of asking."

"Well it's nice to meet you Minghao," you said.

"You too, y/n," he replied back, smiling at you. His hand left yours as the both of you just looked at each other, "Want to see what I'm painting?"

-

So far, life has been quite shit. You almost failed a test in one of your subjects if it wasn't small bonus points saving your sorry ass you'd be getting extra classes. Your parents weren't helping either, them constantly pressuring you into getting a job after uni and nagging you about your grades. It was suffocating, you prayed that one day everything will just end. And so you always looked forward to night time. The chance to be able to see Minghao again made your heart flutter and your shoulders to seem a bit lighter. You hoped for each night, awaiting another adventure with the black haired boy, whether it may be travelling in a pirate ship or flying across the universe. Every moment made you keep fighting, going through the whole day knowing you'd have something to come home to every night.

He became your rock, a beacon to your slowly sinking life, he became one of the only things you fight to live for.

-

"So, what's our plan for today?" You asked, seeing yourself in an island with Minghao sitting beside you.

"Stranded," he answered simply, "today we are stranded." He kicked a bark of wood before standing up from the sand. "We should probably explore the island, see what we're dealing with here."

You nodded your head at his suggestion, following behind him as he led the way deeper into the trees. You felt the air become more humid as you stopped by a clearing. Your heart becoming heavier as you saw the small tree house on one of the trees. It was something you use to have, buried deep in your memories as the thought of it haunted you. It reminded you so much of who you use to be. The feeling of nostalgia overwhelmed your whole being as memories of you staying in there made your head feel slightly dizzy.

"Let's go inside," Minghao said, pulling you to his side. Your feet feeling like jelly as he continued to tug on your arm. "Are you okay?"

Snapping out of your daze, you nod back in reply, slowly walking towards Minghao hesitantly before he helped you climb the ladder. Once you reached the top, you couldn't help but let your eyes wander around the small space. Old knick knacks scattered around the shelves, eyes travelling down the small figurines you use to make, the old children's books you use to read were stacked up in their own little corner with the paintings you use to make stuck to the wall. The pictures looking like indefinite shapes and creatures, you stared at them in wonder, eyes scanning the pictures and wondering where the years have gone.

"You have so much to live for, you know?" Minghao's voice startled you, making you turn to him as he smiled at you. "You have so much to offer to the world, you just don't know it yet."

"What are you talking about?" You asked.

"Everything, you can't sleep forever y/n. The real world isn't in here, it's out there," he pointed towards the window, showing you snippets of memories of your achievements. That time you won first place at an art contest where you got your first medal, when you graduated highschool, when you passed your tests, it was all being shown. "Your body is slowly going down and I am here to give you a choice, stay here with me or go back to the real world, to your life." Minghao stated, making you even more confused.

"I don't know what you're saying," you said, looking down in confusion.

"I know what you've been doing y/n, it's not healthy, you shouldn't force your body to sleep with those pills, it's not okay for you. Now you have to choose," he said. "As much as I'd like it if you stay with me, I can't be that selfish. This isn't your world."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"It's okay, the real world is a mess and I'd be fine with whatever you choose." He stated, looking at your eyes with the same softness he gave you since the first dream. "If you choose to stay we could go horseback riding with some unicorns, or visit the planet Mars and meet some cool martians." He gave you a smile, it looked so gentle it made you want to stay. "And if you choose to leave, that's okay, I'd get to watch you conquer the world and just amaze everyone with just being yourself, something only you could do."

"But I won't get to see you again," you croaked out as Minghao slightly shook his head.

"No, you won't... But I'd get to see you, I'll be cheering you on from the sidelines when you finally achieve your dreams." Minghao wiped off some of the stray tears that escaped your eyes with his thumb, his palm resting on your cheek, "you have a lot to offer the world, y/n." He said, standing beside you like he did back in the vineyard when you first met, "I'll be right here."

You sighed, trying to calm your breathing as small sobs escaped your lips, "I guess it's best if I go then."

Minghao gave you a proud smile, "that's my girl."

He helped you climb down the small house, walking you deeper in the forest before you stopped by the other side of the island. A small plane was there waiting for you. He settled you down the pilot seat, putting the seatbelt on as he stepped back.

"I don't know how to drive a plane," you said before he could shut the door.

He chuckled at your cautiousness, "this is a dream, I'm pretty sure you'll figure it out." As he closed the door, the plane began to roar in life as it began to hover up the ground.

You saw Minghao take a step back, waving his hand up the air as you silently said goodbye. The island slowly turning into ashes.

-

You woke up with a heavy feeling sitting on your chest, the ends of your hair sticking to your forehead due to sweat as you turned to your clock, an hour before uni starts so you quickly changed out of your pyjamas to a casual outfit. You decided to head to the cafe one of your friends work at to help you start the day.

"You looked horrible," Jun said, greeting you by the counter.

"Had a bad dream," you answered simply.

"Wanna talk about it?" He cooed, making you scrunch up your nose.

"Just give me some coffee," you said.

"Okay, by the way want to meet my new friend?" Jun said excitedly, making you look at him weirdly.

"It's six am, my social skills don't work until lunch."

The boy only shook his head, "nope you need more friends." He stated sternly, "Now come on, he isn't that bad." He practically pulled you over the counter and led you to the breakroom where someone was sitting by one of the tables doodling on a piece of paper. "Hey loser, I want you to meet someone!"

Once you saw who it was, you couldn't help but smile in joy, taking his hand in yours as you introduced yourselves to one another.

Minghao kept his promise. He stayed beside you like how he said.

[iohourtime]

Tokyo Alien Bros: Manga Spoilers

Starting July 22nd 25:00 (i.e. July 23rd 1am), NTV will broadcast the live action adaption of Tokyo Alien Brothers, starring Inoo Kei (Hey!Say!JUMP) and Totsuka Shota (ABC-Z).  Link

There are 10 chapters translated to English online and you should be able to find them on google.  I was able to read the other 8 chapters on weibo, so if you are curious about how the story ends, I am going to post some spoilers after the cut.

The weibo account forbids sharing of the contents outside Weibo. Also the scans are in Chinese.  If you really want to know, send me a message and I can send you the person’s account.  Sorry, it’s a bit long and I didn’t have a chance to edit before posting.

I am going to use the names on the NTV website instead of the manga for a couple of characters.  Also, there will probably be adaptational differences in the TV drama.

Fuyunosuke (Inoo Kei) - The little brother who was first sent to Earth to investigate if the environment is suitable for their species.  His cover is an ikemen college student who is super popular (especially among the ladies) and has a very active social life.  He is methodical and intelligent.  He has been described by various characters as very handsome like a model, to the point when he was went shopping wearing a coat over pajamas, the Harajuku sales thought it was the latest fashion trend because there is no way such an ikemen will dress like a slob!

Natsutaro (Totsuka Shota) - The older brother who appeared out of nowhere while Fuyunosuke was having some racy sex with a random person.  Since he showed up in his true form (a blob-like alien), they had to erase the girl’s memory.  He is dumb and useless but kindhearted. He was supposedly sent to check on his brother since Fuyunosuke missed a few calls.

The first few chapters simply goes through how Fuyunosuke helped Natsutaro get familiar with earth: (I’ll just call them Fuyu and Natsu from now on)

- The alien bros cannot touch salt or else they will melt. Natsu found out when they went to eat shio ramen and he started melting.

- Natsu was walking around wearing a bathrobe until some old lady gave him some old clothes.  Then he walked around wearing a tiger print shirt.

- Fuyu had been hiding his spaceship in a park.  He took Natsu around the world to show him how interesting it is. Both brothers seem to be fond of Earth etc.

- Fuyu had many jobs: working at Lawsons, handing out tissue paper, etc. He took Natsutaro with him when he was handing out tissue paper.  Fuyu ditched Natsu on the pretense of a date, but really, he wanted to call HQ.  Natsu ate some gum (?) and went berserk.  He ended up crashing into a truck and part of his face got torn off.  He escaped...

***

Meanwhile, Fuyu was suspicious of HQ’s motive of sending Natsu to monitor him.  During a call back to HQ, he laid out his suspicion.  He said that Natsu was dumb, but if someone as dumb as Natsu can immerse into the environment, then it is proof that the aliens can migrate without any issues.  HQ confirmed and said there are 2 milestones for Natsu: a) find a job, and b) find a girlfriend, then it is proof that Earth is suitable for their species.  HQ told Fuyu not to tell Natsu anything.  Just as he was pondering how to help Natsu, Natsu walked in and said he found a job!

Natsu was hiding from the mob who seen his partially destroyed face.  He went into this candy store and asked the elderly lady if she would hire him and she said yes! So he started working there.  A bunch of kids thought he was weird, since he wore that tiger shirt every day.  One day, Natsu accidentally drank something salty and his face started to melt, and one little girl saw it.  She got her friends to go unmask him.  Somehow, one kid fell into the river and was about to drown.  Natsu dived in to save the boy and emerged in his true form.  However, since the kids were grateful to him, they decided to keep the brothers’ secret.

So now, girlfriend.  Fuyu held a takoyaki party at his place.  His friends, including Chinami* (Tsunematsu Yuri) and Okabe (Owada Kensuke). Okabe had a crush on Chinami and she (like every single girl) was interested in Fuyu. Anyway, Okabe was trying to get with Chinami and absolutely struck out.  While Okabe was feeling low, Natsu empathized with him since they were both losers.  Chinami suddenly found herself attracted to Natsu after that outburst of emotion.

* I think Chinami is called Ritsuko in the manga.  Not sure why they changed it.

***

Fuyu decided to take Natsu shopping, since he had been wearing the same tiger shirt and obviously no ladies want to get with that!  Fuyu walked out in PJ’s and a trench coat, but because he is as good looking as a model, the sales people thought wearing PJs and a trench coat is the trendy thing to do.  No ikemen would be caught in something like that!  Natsu didn’t have money, so Fuyu took him to the store Chinami worked in. Chinami was helping Natsu with clothes and suddenly Fuyu remembered how she helped him pick out proper clothes.  He felt angry and ran off.  Natsu chased after Fuyu and left his tiger shirt behind.  He asked Fuyu why he needed to buy clothes, and Fuyu told him about the mission.

***

Fuyu woke up with Haruru (Ohgo Suzuka). He was wondering why he felt so weird. Haruru suggested he might be jealous of his brother.  Fuyu dismissed the idea.  In the meantime, Chinami went to Natsu’s workplace to return the shirt and to ask him out.  Fuyu, who was absolutely not jealous, kept trying to disrupt their date by transforming himself into a smarmy guy, a smarmy middle-aged guy, and even a giant cat to try and steal Chinami away.  He finally admitted to himself that he was jealous.  While Natsu and Chinami was at a love hotel, Natsu’s face started melting when Chinami kissed him.  He had to wipe her memory and ran home.  Fuyu decided that in order to understand women, they needed to become women.

***

Fuyuko and Natsuko went out and explore as women. Naturally, Fuyuko was super cute while Natsuko looked like a character from the 80′s wearing a power suit. While they out, a scout told Fuyuko that he could make *her* a star and took *her* for a ride in his fancy car. Natsu had been trying to contact HQ with no avail, so he went home to call HQ again.  HQ told him that the Earth migration plan was cancelled because another investigation team found an even better planet for them.  Fuyu, one of his hands transformed into a blade, his face covered with blood, was staring down at the scout’s body, whose decapitated head laid beside him!  “You should not have tried to rape me.  Men are disgusting creatures.”

***

Fuyu took the dead scout’s car keys and took Natsu for a ride.  He was also starting to lose it.  He ended up crashing the car.  He told Natsu what happened and that he was completely disgusted.  They ended up in a park and Natsu told Fuyu about the end of the Earth Migration plan.  Suddenly, the cops showed up to arrest Natsu for the truck incident earlier in the story. 

As the cops put the handcuffs on Natsu, Natsu’s hand melted (or snapped off) and he started running away.  Fuyu, forever cleaning up his older brother’s mess, erased the memory of the cops, but an old guy saw them.  Fuyu was about to kill the old guy because he was of no consequence, but Natsu stopped him.  A crowd gathered while they were in half alien form so they had to make a run for the subway. 

While riding the train, Fuyu was clearly losing it because he had to leave Earth (even though he won’t admit to it).  Suddenly, a swarm of people got onto the train as it was rush hour.  Fuyu got pissed with all the people and was going to kill everyone in the packed train because they are moving to the new place and it no longer mattered.  Natsu ate some of the gum from earlier, grabbed Fuyu and literally flew out of the train. Unfortunately, they were going to fall into the sea.  In order to save his brother, Fuyu threw Natsu onto the sidewalk while he fell into the sea.  When Fuyu made it back to the shore, he was melted down to a kid-sized blob.  As he needed to transform into something of the same mass, he could no longer become an ikemen, a cute girl, or even an old guy.  He transformed into a white cat.  Natsu took him home.

***

Cat-Fuyu was not accustomed to his new cat body.  He also sensed that Natsu kinda fell in love with Earth, so he decided to go back home on his own.  But since he was a cat, it took him forever to get back to his space ship and when he was about to pass out, he remembered how he was when he first showed up on Earth.  Haruru picked up Cat-Fuyu and told him she would help him and that she knew he was an alien. 

In the meantime, Natsu was going crazy looking for Cat-Fuyu and asked Fuyu’s friends to help him hand out flyers to look for his lost cat, Fuyunosuke.  He said he named the cat after his brother (who was “travelling”) because it looked like his brother.  Anyway, Haruru took Cat-Fuyu home to Natsu.

Cat-Fuyu told Natsu that he only wanted to leave since Natsu really liked his life on Earth.  The brothers shared a last conversation together and Natsu took Cat-Fuyu back to his space ship.  Natsu and Fuyu hugged before Fuyu left to the new place.  Natsu went home and found a box Fuyu left him.  It was his Earthly research with a note “Even though I don’t know if it will be of use to you. - Fuyunosuke”  Natsu flipped through the pictures of the brothers and had a silent drink on the balcony alone.

***

A number of months later, Natsu was integrated into his Earthly life. He was hanging out with Chinami, Okabe, and other friends of Fuyu.  He missed his brother.  He was walking his dog and saw a white cat that looked like Cat-Fuyu. Nope.  He Suddenly his dog barked at a middle-aged guy, who turned away.  “Fuyunosuke?  What are you doing here?”  Middle-aged guy turned back into Fuyunosuke. 

Fuyu: Looks like I am discovered.

Natsu: Well, there were so many flaws in your disguise.

Fuyu: Oops. Well, the new place is too boring, so I came back.

Natsu: Your body?

Fuyu: Yeah, HQ has the best technology, so they were able to fix my body.

Natsu: Welcome back, Fuyunosuke.

Fuyu: I am home, big brother.

The brothers went back home and shared a drink on the balcony like they always did.  They looked at each other and laughed.

- The End - 

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/supernatural-good-intentions-aka-paving-road-hell/

'Supernatural' Good Intentions aka paving that road to hell

I’m going to do something I never thought I’d do for a review. I’m going to give you a disclaimer with this Supernatural review: If you cannot separate any actor from the character they play (the main picture above is a helpful hint), then you’re free to go. Class dismissed. No hard feelings. Seriously. In fact, I’d rather you go. Still here? Okay, then. I’m going to start with a brief rundown of an episode I skipped reviewing last month, “Devil’s Bargain.” I skipped it for a very personal reason: because unlike some fans, I don’t hate Eugenie Ross-Leming and Brad Buckner. I don’t think they’re awful writers. I don’t think they’re misogynists or racists, in fact, I think the opposite. I don’t think “Taxi Driver” is that bad compared to a lot of other episodes we’ve endured. I think “Route 666” is unbelievably underrated and if possible more relevant now than it was twelve years ago. Finally, I think a lot of fandom screaming “canon fail” at them is a two-fold issue: one, we’re all very married to our head-canons and two, all the writers do it and alway have. Blaming just them is simply childish. And before you say it, no, I don’t care that they wrote the death of Charlie Bradbury. Seriously. I don’t care. The character was way past expiration, like a couple other characters that we’re still enduring. I digress. For now, a quick rundown of “Devil’s Bargain.” It was… okay. Danneel Ackles made her Supernatural debut as faith healer Sister Jo, but frankly, even before her first scene aired, we all knew she’d be revealed as an angel. Now, as someone in fandom, it’s hard to remove yourself from knowing that you’re watching Jensen Ackles’ wife onscreen, but since I’d watched Danneel on TV way before they even began dating I have a slight advantage, and there were definitely shades of her One Tree Hill character, Rachel Gatina, in Sister Jo. While, I would’ve liked to see a bit more comedy out of this role, because I think that’s where Danneel Ackles shines, the sultry selfishness of Sister Jo wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, it was refreshing to finally see an angel who wasn’t wearing a boring suit and acting like an office drone. Honestly, Supernatural, the angels and demons on your show have become so homogenous. One big blurry blob of maybe good, maybe bad, but all definitely bored, ad execs. Sister Jo and Lucifer were the actual highlights of this episode, separately and together. Their encounters were unsettling, but they were supposed to be, and the performances were there. Yeah, the dialogue was wordy, that’s Ross-Leming and Buckner for you, but a good actor can turn wordy into conversational. Danneel Ackles and Mark Pellegrino were able to do that. Was the sexual metaphor heavy handed? Oh, yeah, totally. That said, after the very literal hammers to the head in Steve Yockey’s episode “Various & Sundry Villains” we learned that it’s not a deal breaker for an episode. Misha Collins himself once said there was nothing subtle about the writing in Supernatural. You know what is a deal breaker, though? When your tertiary characters outweigh your primary leads and secondary regular. I spent every moment that Dean, Sam, and Castiel were on screen thinking, “can we get back to Lucifer and Sister Jo?” And it wasn’t the director, I can’t blame Eduardo Sanchez for the drag in momentum, because if anyone can build tension and deliver it’s the director of The Blair Witch Project. Sanchez is horror royalty, a tension king. I’m not going to blame the writing either because again, Danneel Ackles and Mark Pellegrino were engaging. I blame the show running and the editing. I know, I know, I’m not being subtle in where I’m going with this, but we’ll get back to that later. Anyway, “Devil’s Bargain” was passable. Not a top 20 episode, but not a bottom 20 one either. It existed. It’ll be mostly memorable for the fact that Danneel Ackles was in it. Her presence, whether it was because you know her from One Tree Hill, know her as Jensen’s wife, or just plain enjoyed Sister Jo, basically saved this episode from complete obscurity. What’s that you say? But what about the big reveal of Gabriel at the end? Well, if we hadn’t seen it coming, it might have been cool. Same with Bobby in the next episode. There’s no shock left because like with Ruthie Connell’s, between the cast, crew, and PR we know everything weeks in advance. Speaking of the next episode, let’s get into episode 13.14, “Good Intentions,” penned by Meredith Glynn and directed by P.J. Pesce. I’m going to get two petty things out of the way because they are the least of the problems with this episode; the camera angles were really awkward, and the use of the episode title in the dialogue during act one was, wow, hammers to the head again, anyone? I have one more issue that’s less about writing, directing, and acting, but I’m saving it for, you guessed it: later. Have you been filing away those “laters”? Hope so. What I am going to get into here is the overall writing of this episode, specifically the dialogue and characterization. First of all, can we stop asking how Castiel is all the time? I get that you are all struggling to justify the character, but no one, absolutely no one, gets asked about or talks about their feelings more than the soulless angel. It’s honestly preposterous when you think about it. We’re also going to have Castiel be the one both worried about and coddled over Lucifer being free? The dude who let Lucifer free? I know you’re fairly new, Meredith, so hey, let’s give you a break, I mean no one expects you to understand twelve years of canon. Who can? Except millions of fans who aren’t paid to do so. Let’s also discuss how you’re going to have characters that are “sometimes referred to as brothers” and then send Castiel and Dean off to fight them? Meredith, Meredith, Meredith. No ma’am. That’s just bad narrative symmetry. A rookie move, honestly. So is using “migraine” and “headache” interchangeably, but that’s a pet peeve puddle I’d don’t have the patience to play in, not when there’s an entire pond of “what even is going on here??” to paddle through. Actually, no, I’m going to address this a bit further; if I’m so removed from your storyline that I have the ability to focus your very common, yet annoying, medical inconsistency then something is very wrong. And what’s wrong is that this episode is an Everlasting Gobstopper of info dumping. It’s all exposition. No heart, no soul, no characterization. All tell and no show. This episode felt feature length and not in a good way. Actually, the only one in character is Mary. Her caring about six-month-old manchild, Jack when she can’t seem to genuinely care about her six-month-old baby turned hero of a man; Sam was very spot on. Although, I somehow don’t think you intended that bit of irony. Speaking of Mary and Jack, let’s get into a bit about the alternate world. It’s a cool idea, Andrew Dabb. In theory, it really is. I mean, apocalypse AUs have never been my personal preferred fanfic trope, but I get that it’s popular. In execution, however, if you’re going to retread the characters of Michael and Zachariah in new bodies then you need to have writers that can keep the characterization consistent with the season 4 and season 5 characters we knew. These two dudes aren’t that. Don’t get me wrong, the physical casting for Michael is superb, very nice eye candy, and hey, I’ll even allow the argument that we saw so little of Michael in SPN 1.0 that you and your writers have room to play. But Zachariah? Kurt Fuller’s performance is what brought Zachariah to life, the combination of determination, manipulation, and exhaustion all delivered with smug sarcasm. This Zachariah, he’s a generic second in command character. He could literally be anyone. You’ll notice I’ve barely mentioned Sam Winchester. Yeah. That’s because you forgot to write him and the director forgot to focus on him and yo, I’m so tired. So let’s talk about all the “laters”, shall we? I said I wasn’t going to blame director Eduardo Sanchez and honestly, I have very little blame for P.J. Pesce aside from some dubious camera angle choices. I blame the writing and the show running. Now if you’re someone who preaches Team Free Will, that door from earlier is still open, please, walk through it, because there is nothing more tedious than a scene with Dean, Sam, and Castiel or Dean and Castiel. I’m not here to debate that; it’s my opinion in my opinion piece. Not one single writer can keep the dialogue in these types of scenes flowing. It’s forever awkward, stilted, and redundant and very clearly existing because it’s required by the showrunner. Every season for the past few years has been Castiel screwing up, then storming in thinking he knows better, then screwing up again. Maybe that’s a sign the character has overstayed? Perhaps. Fact is, it’s become so boring. The only consistent thing about Castiel is his hubris followed by his pouting and moping. Another I later implied was editing. I have so many issues with the editing in this episode. Listen, horror genre is my thing. Good horror movies, bad horror movies, slasher flicks, torture porn, psychological thrillers, ghost, monsters, all of it. I love it. Often times what makes or breaks a horror movie isn’t the acting or the writing, it’s the editing. It’s the way scenes are put together. It’s the sound mixing. It’s practical effects versus reliance on CGI. This episode failed on each of these points. The thudding steps from the “giants” Gog and Magog sounded comical, not to mention the fact that we suddenly had subtitles for an ancient language. Oh, I get it, Meredith had jokes. Anyway. The other editing failures were the cut from Zachariah tossing Jack into his cell to Jack landing and several other POV switch edits that were equally as awkward and choppy. Not to mention the random moments of surprise!shaky cam. This episode felt cobbled together out of several other things. Not other episodes, actual different projects. As for the CGI, the lighting in the AU world was very near animated in appearance. The reveal of Zachariah pretending to be Castiel felt like funhouse horror editing, which can work… if you’re watching The Houses October Built. Not to mention the beheading of the giant was pretty bad, especially for a show that has had amazing beheadings in the past. And Jack turning the angels into missiles was just… I don’t even have words. Again, I come from a horror background, so these things matter a lot. But finally, my last, and biggest gripe is this: what even are we doing? Season 13, what is your thesis statement? We are fourteen episodes into this season, and there’s no story. Not really. We spent the first half setting up a spin-off that may or may not happen, and now we’re just throwing spaghetti at a wall. Michael, Mary, Jack, Lucifer, Asmodeus, Bobby, the AU world, the real world. It’s all a hodgepodge. The only thing I know for certain is what this season isn’t about. Sam and Dean Winchester.

Movie TV Tech Geeks News

[notorious-fiction]

The Christmas Prince (A Whoever You Want to Read With One-Shot)

        You two had made a deal.

         Shook hands and all, very solemn looks on your faces, promising one another a very simple thing.

         No gift exchanging on Christmas day.

(You'd just been laid off your job and it sucked balls, and he knew money was a bit short on your end and also knew you would never, in a gazillion years accept any money from him, so he started to come up with a bunch of lame ass excuses to make you feel a bit better.)

("It's cliché", he had snorted when you touched the subject "Exchanging Christmas gifts. Ugh. It was meaningful before but now it's just another "especial" date that lost it's core value to boost capitalism. I mean, you can be a crappy boyfriend all year round as long as you buy your girl an extra glittery Hallmark card and a Tiffany Bracelet, right?")

("Right." You had agreed, although not really, because as much as you found sexy as fuck when he used pretty words - core value, damn - you still flipping loved Christmas and looked forward to it all year long.)

        So no gift exchanging it was.

        You'd spend Christmas day with you family and he would spend it with his - you knew how rare it was for him to take some time to see them - but the day before, the 24th, you had him all to your own.

        Just "a casual dinner, the two of us" (his words, not yours) with some "classic Christmas movies, deal with it, loser" (your words, not his) at your place.

        Going out was a real pain nowadays, with the whole paps, fangirls, Snapchatters, etc thing, so to save yourself from the stress (how come he never failed to look like a Goddamn model on those candids whilst you looked like you were about to sneeze? Ugh.), staying in it was.

        In, with no gifts.

        Or at least you thought so, because mid afternoon on December 24th your iPhone seemed to gain a life of its own, all your social media accounts on a frenzy of notifications as, oh well, your famous as fuck of a boyfriend was spotted loading a box the size of a small poney into his car.

("She is so lucky!!!!!!")

("What did he get herrrrrrr i'd be happy just with his dick on box and by the size of it its prob that lol")

("Ugh i hope its a bomb")

(Insert other very sweet comments here.)

        You controlled the urge to text him (going against your über curious personality with all the strenghth your posessed), instead focusing on the fact that you were...

        Fucked.

        Because whilst your boyfriend was on the posession of a very big, flashy box (what you had no idea what was inside, Christ, what the hell was inside of it?!), you were in the posession of...

        "How The Grinch Stole Christmas", "Elf" and "The Polar Express".

(All masterpieces, in your humble opinion.)

        And the phone of the thai take out two blocks from your place.

(Best pad thai and sticky rice ever.)

(Plus it gave tons of free sriracha packets! Yay for free stuff!)

        But seriously, what the fuck were you supposed to give to a human being who seemed to have absolutely everything?!

        It'd be stupid to give him clothes - he got those for free -, you had no idea what his shoesize was (did that make you a horrible girlfriend? oops) and anything else you could think of was undoubtely lame. 

        What if you made him something?

        Okay so you didn't know how to draw or paint or knit or rhyme or write a song or do anything that required a minimum artistic vein slash handicraft talent but you could...

        Try?

        Throwing your body on the couch, your laptop literally on your lap, you sat on your ultimate comfy position - which he had lovingly nicknamed "Cirque Du Soleil's contortionist catching up on reality TV on it's free time" or "how you don't have a back problem is beyond me" (when he said that last one he totally reminded you of your mom) -, typing on the words that were responsible for many delayed papers at Uni and scurries off the house whilst almost tripping on your shoes as you were late as fuck.

        Pinterest dot com.

(A blessing and a curse to womankind, honestly.)

D. I. Y.

(Do it yourself.)

(Although you actually never did.)

        Scrolling down the screen - DIY baking soda shampoo! DIY mosaic tile birdbath using recycled DVD's! DIY Glittery Bath Bombs! - you noticed that all of them seemed to involve stuff everyone apparently had at home except you like glue guns or spray paint or Scrabble tile holders (...seriously) so after five minutes of Pinterest searching, you sighed in defeat.

(Hard effort wasn't your forte, you had to admit.)

        Even friendship bracelets are a hard task to accomplish when you have the skills of a three year old toddler and if you actually purchased a glue gun you could already picture yourself glueing nothing but your own fingers and spending Christmas Day at the ER.

        But you did have glitter glue, and that wasn't so dangerous was it?

        You also had an old, slightly crumpled piece of cardboard and a "DIY Easy Glittery Hallmark card tutorial!" (snort) at your screen, so you decided to give it a go.

        If it came out okay you'd be able to give him as an ironic gift?

("Oh hey, I know you gave me a super awesome/expensive/fancy/cool/thoughtful - insert whatever the hell could be inside that massive box here Christ the curiosity was killing you - but ha-ha-ha remember that snark you made about glittery Hallmark cards?! Instead of giving money to the greedy capitalist men I made one myself, how about that?! Aren't I the Best Girlfriend Ever?!?!?!")

        And if it came out like crap you could, y'know, throw it in the bin...

        ...So of course it came out like crap.

        Because you somehow managed to put more glitter glue on the tip of your fingers than on the goddamn cardboard, more glitter glue on your clothes as you absentmindedly rubbed your hands on it as you tried to think of what the hell you could do to save your "Merry Christmas" masterpiece.

(Trash.) (That was how you could save it, your dignity, your boyfriend's poor eyes and your dignity.)

(By throwing your masterpiece on the garbish.)

(Fuck ironic gifts.)

        Of course that instead of coming up with another idea after the Glittery-DIY-Hallmark-Card fiasco, your procrastinator side spoke louder, and click after click after click you found yourself going deeper and deeper of that pit called Pinterest, until you blazed on a section you'd never dared to venture on before.

        The recipe session.

        There were gooey chocolate chip bars, chocolate fudge brownies, kale and artichokes dip, quinoa fried "rice" (...why would someone all it fried "rice" if it had no rice in it only quinoa, you wondered...) and everything made your mouth water and stomach growl and you deeply wished there was someone who could make it for you.

        Everything sounded too tempting (and too hard and with too many fancy ingredients and kitchen appliances you'd never even heard of) until you found...

"Easy adaptable chocolate chip cookies with ingredients everyone has at home!!!!! Can be made vegan gluten/lactose/nut/anythying free paleo atkins insert random diet you'd never heard of before here"

        Well...

        Following a recipe wouldn't be that hard... Would it?

        Especially when you could sub eggs for oil if you didn't have any or oil for mashed banana or mashed banana for applesauce or applesauce for honey or honey for agave which were all obviously so much alike, right?

        Throwing everything you had into a single bowl - did you mention it was a single bowl recipe? Seriously, it could not get any better, your dishes-washing-hater-side thought - you frowned as you compared your final result to the one on the screen.

        Pinterest's batter: gooey but firm, looked so good you wouldn't mind spooning it raw directly into your mouth.

        Your batter: two year old's diarrhea, you wouldn't want to spoon it raw directly into your mouth not even if they paid you.

        You somehow managed to put little (balls, on Pinterest, blobs, sounded more accurate to your situation) blobs of the batter onto the baking sheet and onto the oven, too busy freaking out slash trying to understand what the hell you did wrong (ooh two american cups of flour? what were american cups? weren't your cups american? why america has to control everything for god's sake?!) to notice the door being unlocked, only realising you had company when you heard an amused chuckle behind you.

        Turning around so quick you almost broke your neck - fouet filled with sticky disgusting batter held in hand in a threatingly way - you found him staring, all long legs and perfect hair and mocking grin and...

        Empty hands?

        Where the hell was the box the size of a toddler he was seen loading into his car?!

        Goddamit, internet!

(And why did you feel a lil' bit disappointed I mean...)

(...you had him, hadn't you?)

(Best Christmas Gift Ever, am I right.)

        "Hi."

        "Hi. Were you..." A cute little frown appeared between his brows, pearly white teeth still on show as he asked "Baking?"

        Getting a bit defensive - why did he have to sound so confused/terrified? - you dropped the fouet on the sink, replying "Yes, why?"

        "Oh, for nothing! I mean, it smells..."

(Awful.)

        "Pretty good."

(Damn, he was a liar.)

        Leaning to check the oven temperature just one more time - I mean, better safe than sorry, you couldn't push your luck (any further) - you ignored your boyfriend's stare (a cute little smirk on his lips because well, he thought it was cute how you hadn't noticed the chocolate batter on your chin or how you wore an apron thrice your size), asking maybe a little too cheery "So, how's your Christmas eve going so far?"

( "...Loading too many big ass boxes onto your car?", you rhymed mentally.)

        "Well, not too good I mean, I only got to see my lovely lady today." He replied with a charming smile, expecting for you to giggle - alright, fine, he knew you weren't one to giggle, or at least give him love eyes.

        You squinted skeptically.

...Okay.

        "Empty handed, I see."

        "Yeah, kinda glad we decided to skip on that Christmas madness. Had to help a mate out with picking up a complete set of one of those fancy Le Creuset cooking things. Said his girlfriend would love it." He added with a scoff, rolling his eyes "I told him that if I gave you anything kitchen related you'd throw it in my head, but seeing you're apparently into cooking now..." He paused, pursing his lips "Should I write it down as a suggestion for your birthday?"

        Her mind went black.

        Kitchen appliances.

        His mate was giving his girlfriend freakin' casseroles and frying pans.

(Oh poor girl.)

(Poor, poor girl.)

(The disappointment when she opened that huge heavy box.)

(Damn.)

        And you had been freaking out the entire day thinking he'd gotten you something big and awesome and you'd look like the awful ungrateful girlfriend.

        Man, that ugly glittery card would look like heaven next yo, y'know... Nothing.

        "If you ever give me a damn casserole pan I shall rip off your little buddy of you, cut it into tiny little pieces, cook them in the freakin' thing and serve you for dinner." You stated, and he replying, giving you a kiss on the forehead  "Aw, see? I know you so well."

        God, you were glad he didn't get you anything.

        Because being with him was the best gift you could've ever asked for.

(Insert vomiting and cringing here.)

(Fuck you never thought you would be THIS gross and disgusting and loving about any human being in your life after your miserable string of awful break-ups.)

(Yet there you were, with your very own prince charming.)

(Yup, that was it, you guys would be watching The Christmas Prince on Netflix.)

        You showed your appreciation by getting on the tips of your toes and pecking him on the lips, the little wrinkle of confusion between his forehead making you want to kiss him even more.

(How was possible for someone to be so cute slash sexy at the same damn time?)

(Seriously.)

(Ugh.)

        But then, maybe you'd been too distracted by his pouty pink lips - no chapstick or anything, you wondered how the hell he managed to get them always so soft and puffy and kissable - to check the oven...

        And the whole room started to smell a bit smokey.

        And look a bit smokey.

        "Fuck, my Pinterest cookies!" You squealed, startling him.

        You were sort of thankful your fire alarm wasn't working so well, because if the firemen showed up because you almost burned your kitchen down, your landlord would have (even more) reasons to hate you.

        "It looks... Edible." Your boyfiend said matter of fact, poking one of your cookies at the tray with the tip of his fingers with brows furrowed.

        They looked like baby alien fetus.

(Edible, in some outer galaxy cultures, probably.)

        "Want to try them?" You knew by the raise of his eyebrow that it was a challenge, a thing you rarely passed.

        Daringly, you got one - dropping it back to the tray because damn they were hot -, trying it again after a few seconds of you two staring at each other with "Who Shall Quit First" eyes.

        Was he going to make you eat them first?

        By the fake tight ass smile he was giving you, he was...

        So with the biggest grin you could muster, you squeaked "Merry Christmas baby! I made these for you! Hope you like them!"

(Or at least don't get food poisoning and die! Please don't get food poisoning and die! I kinda really really really really really like you!)

(And if you die because of me slash my cookies your fans will murder me!)

        With a small gulp, he picked one of the alien fetus cookies, shaking it off so they wouldn't be "too hot and burn his tongue" for about three minutes.

        You kinda knew he was trying to make as many tiny pieces of it fall out so he'd eat as less of a cookie as possible, but you didn't call him out on it because oh well, he was at least going to eat a teeny bit of them.

        And in the end, after a bit of fake awing "Oh, tastes so good babe" and maybe spitting on a napkin when you turned around to throw the dirty dishes on the sink, he did eat your alien fetus cookies.

        What made him the best boyfriend slash Christmas present ever.

        And after drinking maybe a bit too much wine and watching The Christmas Prince, he drunkenly vowed to never ever give you anything cooking related - as the cookies now rested in peace in your trashcan, on top of your ugly ass glittery card -, and that vow would be proved to be a gift that kept on giving.

(I mean, it would give stomach aches and calls to the fire fighters and be a total waste of ingredients, so you were cool with that.)

(And even if he never gave you anything at all, he dealt with your craziness, your PMSing, you overreacting whenever you let your - very expensive - makeup fall onto the floor, never watched Game of Thrones episodes without you and always let you eat the biggest last slice of cheesecake.)

        And if that wasn't much of a proof of real, true love, you had no idea of what the hell it could be.

           And that was the greatest gift of all.

(Cue to cringing due to cheesyness again.)

-------

MERRY CHRISTMAS U GUYSSSSSSSSS!

Hope y’all have a fantastic one and find all you wanted under the tree! ooh and if you liked it pls don’t forget to click on that like button (i’ve been watching too many youtube vids send help)

lots lots of love

Gabe

ps: i’d like to dedicate this to my favorite humans on earth victoria, nina and lari, who are still my friends even after i’ve been through probably 30 different mental breakdowns this year, love you guise so muchhhhhhhh thanks for always encouraging me to write!!! oh and if you haven’t read my stories based on them you can find them all here 

[themurphyzone]

A Skele-Ton to Learn

Based on a quick gag from Backwards to School Night where they bring a skeleton back to life. 

“You wanted to see me?” Melissa asked, closing the door to Principal Milder’s office behind her. She dropped her backpack at her feet, slipping into a chair. There was a boy with messy blond hair by the water cooler, who seemed rather fascinated by the taps. His outfit was more appropriate for a rodeo rather than a public school. 

Principal Milder sighed. “Get comfortable, cause this is gonna take a while.” 

The boy flopped into the seat next to her. “Hello!” he exclaimed, shaking her hand. She shook it once to be polite. “Wow, you’ve got really strong carpals!”

“Uh, yeah. I drink a lot of milk,” Melissa said, eyeing him cautiously. 

The boy nodded eagerly. “So what’s your favorite bone? I like the strength of the femur, oh, but the clavicle has this really pretty shape too, and I could go on forever about the scapula....” 

As he rambled on, Melissa decided she didn’t care about a reprimand and gave Principal Milder the universal sign for ‘Who the heck is this and why is he complimenting my bones within five seconds of meeting me?’ 

“Meet Pat Ella,” Principal Milder said awkwardly. “Or as you and the rest of the school know him, Bony Boy.” 

Melissa managed to crack a smile. “That’s hilarious. Everyone knows that Bony Boy is the-” 

An alarm went off in her brain. 

“-skeleton in Mrs. Murawski’s classroom what’sgoingonhere?” Melissa’s voice rose to a shriek and she climbed out of her seat, holding her backpack in front of her for protection. “You’re supposed to be skin and bones, wait, no, just bones, cause skeletons aren’t supposed to have skin!” 

“There was an incident the night of the Parent-Teacher Conference-” Principal Milder continued. Melissa got the impression she was laughing at her. “-in which Pat Ella claims he was hit with a strange beam of light and came back to life. Unfortunately, we can’t verify his claims with the security cameras since they’re always malfunctioning and I still haven’t heard back from the district about getting replacements.”

“Is your name really Pat Ella?” Melissa asked the former Bony Boy, slowly putting as much distance as she could between them. 

He grinned. “I think so! I wanted to name myself Jack Skellington, but apparently there’s some copyright laws that prevent it.” 

“I can’t disclose his former identity to you, since that would raise numerous ethical and legal implications as to why the school was keeping a student’s skeleton in the closet,” Principal Milder said. “Besides, Mrs. Murawski terrified all the attorneys in the Tri-State Area when they objected to her marrying a teacher’s desk.” 

“How fascinating,” Melissa said, her throat growing dry. 

“And now I’m tasking you with the job of showing Pat the ropes around Jefferson County Middle School. You’ll be his guide for the rest of today.” 

And with that, Principal Milder dismissed them. 

“Are you hungry?” Melissa asked. 

“Famished!” Pat exclaimed. “Man, I haven’t had a digestive system in a long time. It’s so weird having squishy organs that can spill out if you just cut the skin right.” 

While Milo often made some off-hand comments that could be taken as creepy or macabre, he lacked the obsession with human anatomy that Pat proudly possessed. Briefly she wondered if she was acting as a guide for a future serial killer. 

“You know, most people tend to respond with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no,” Melissa said hopefully, hoping to instill a basic social skill early. “Now, did you bring your lunch?” 

Pat had gone with the simple answer of no, which she was thankful for. She pointed him to the lunch line, which was incredibly long despite only being five minutes into the break. 

Now that they were separated, Melissa’s heart was calming down. Milo, Zack, and Mort were already at the table. She sat down and took out her lunch without looking any of them in the eye. 

“So why were you called into Principal Milder’s office?” Milo asked. 

Somehow the sight of ham was making her queasy, and she gingerly peeled it off the rest of the sandwich. “Anyone want this?” she asked. 

There was a bark by her feet, and Melissa looked down to see Diogee drooling at the sight of the ham. She tossed it to him, and he gulped it down in a single bite.

“Diogee, go home!” Milo ordered. Diogee whined and exited the cafeteria, a student opening the side door for him. “Silly pup, he’s not supposed to be in the school cafeteria.” 

She took a tiny bite of her cheese and tomato sandwich. “Bony Boy came back to life on Parent-Teacher Night. And now I’m his guide at school for the rest of the day. His name’s Pat Ella now. He has an obsession with anatomy and now I’m afraid he’s gonna dissect me in my sleep and display my vital organs on trophies.” 

“Your aura is disturbed,” Mort noted. 

How helpful.

“It’s okay, we’ll help out in any way we can,” Milo reassured her. 

“How did Bony Boy come back to life?” Zack asked. “That’s what I’m wondering.” 

“Something about a strange beam of light....” Melissa murmured. She remembered a beam of light had enveloped their parents and Mrs. Murawski when they were de-aged and later returned to normal by the device Cavendish needed to fix. “Guys, I think the de-aging beam must’ve struck Bony Boy at one point.” 

Zack waved his hands frantically. “Slow down! You mean to tell me Cavendish and Dakota just casually had a gadget that can bring people back to life? Does that mean if you reversed the effects-”

“-that you could kill someone quickly and efficiently? Yes, yes it does,” Melissa finished. 

“Do you think I should call Cavendish and Dakota?” Milo asked. “I mean, doesn’t this technically fall under time travel?” 

“Time travel is messy enough if Dr. Zone is anything to go by,” Zack gulped. “Maybe we shouldn’t involve them unless we absolutely need to.” 

“Agreed,” Melissa said. 

To her dismay, Pat managed to join them with ten minutes left in the lunch period. “Hey, you must be Melissa’s friends! Milo, it’s nice to meet you! You fighting that sentient blob was super amazing!” 

Milo grinned at the compliment, only to be replaced by confusion. “Wait, how did you know about the sentient blob?” 

Pat gobbled down half of his spaghetti, dabbing at a glob of marinara at the corner of his mouth. When he set the napkin on his tray, Melissa couldn’t help but think it looked like blood.

“Being dead was kind of an out of body experience,” Pat explained. “I could see what was going on, provided I was facing the class and not the wall. Maybe not really an out of body experience, since it seemed like my soul was trapped inside the skeleton and begging to be set free, maybe an in-body experience would be more correct? All I know is that I couldn’t move at all.” 

He really shouldn’t talk about those things so casually, Melissa thought. 

“Whoops, I’m sorry for knocking your skull off one time and having to chase it all the way to a baseball stadium where the batter somehow scored a home run with you,” Milo said sheepishly. 

“Nah, I should be thanking you for that one,” Pat shrugged. “Gave me a chance to see more than a science classroom. It was totally worth the crack in my mandible!” 

“What do you think of Mrs. Murawski?” Mort asked. 

“She’s strange but cool, I guess,” Pat replied. “Things get weird after school though. She starts telling her desk things you’d only hear from a lovey-dovey couple on a honeymoon.” 

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Saved by the bell, Melissa thought. She did not want to hear the details.

History class was an absolute trainwreck. 

And the train that smashed the wall where Mr. Drako kept a picture of his ex was the least of her concerns. Mr. Drako had finished his lesson early, leaving them with free time for the rest of the school day. Melissa was tempted to go up to his desk and beg to continue the Civil War to avoid her classmates freaking out when Pat inevitably complimented their skeletons. 

“Oh, I like psychological horror more!” Pat said to Chad, who was starting to turn green. “Zombies are cool, but I really enjoy villains who twist the knife into the mind and cause the heroes a whole lot of mental anguish. I love it when you don’t know what’s happening, and you’re given the bare bones, if you’ll pardon my pun, and your imagination starts filling in the blanks! That’s what true horror is!” 

Chad smiled weakly. “Uh, yeah. Cool.” 

To distract herself, Melissa turned to Amanda. “Hey, I haven’t seen Lydia for the past two days,” she began. “Is she sick?” 

Amanda didn’t look up from highlighting her planner. “She was doing a rehearsal and tripped on the stairs leading to the stage. Broke her arm.” 

“Maybe we should run by the hospital to see her,” Milo suggested. “The gift shop there has some really nice flowers. It’s too bad. She really loves theater arts.” 

Amanda nodded. “Yeah, she was more upset at being out of the play than her broken arm.”

“Too bad. Broken bones aren’t fun,” Pat frowned, rubbing his shoulder as if remembering an old injury. “And neither is your entire arm popping off when something crashes into it. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but my left arm just doesn’t quite feel like it’s in the right position.” 

“Um, maybe you should get that looked at?” Amanda asked nervously. 

Pat shrugged. “Maybe later.” 

Pat’s definition of ‘maybe later’ turned out to be never since Milo had invited him over to his house since he didn’t have a computer at home to do research for an essay. Melissa tagged along, since she practically lived at the Murphy home anyway. 

It beat being home alone when her dad worked long hours. 

Melissa tuned out Pat gushing over the vertebral column, wondering if there were any articles about his death. Or what his previous identity was, parents, date of birth, and public records. She figured it was a mystery that would never be solved. 

“Zack, do you think Principal Milder is secretly running a shady business with the school as a cover?” Melissa asked. “Because that has to be the logical explanation behind all this.” 

“Probably,” Zack replied. “I’ve never met anyone who was super concerned about their keys before.”

[a-rat-and-a-blob]

The Sewer King’s Carol: The Second Ghost

The Sewer King’s Carol Drabbles Arch: link

Previous Drabble (First Ghost Part 2): link

As we continue on in this trek through the blizzard of soot, leaving the empty lair of the past behind, I feel the grip of the ghost slowly disappear as I found another bright light in front of me. It seems similar to the one I saw at the commercia, and I wondered what it would entail. What scene would the ghost pick this time? Can't be good if they wish to torture me. I hear the rat's scream again. Oh how he screamed. "What did you give me sprit?" I ask. "What did you give me that I should be thankful for.. Should I be thankful for the surface dwellers' meddling in my plans? Should I be thankful for my lair being destroyed!? Tell me, what!?"

               There was no verbal response. The light in the distance seemed to be fading. "Hey! Answer me, spirit! Answer the sewer king's question!" My pace quickens as I catch up. The light approaches closer and closer in the pit of darkness. I could even here the faint sound of music. Violins and the vocals of humans. Accordions and percussion. I run and run and run until the soot was all behind me and I can make out shapes. The shadows of trash cans, the smell of tasteless surface food, and the source of the light, a single lamppost at the end of a dark alley. I look up at its glare in confusion as I approach it, keeping my figure hidden from the chance of a nearby human noticing me.

               "Spirit! Ghost! Where am I?" I ask. I look back, but all I see is a dead end where the homeless slept and the cracks infested the pavement. I slowly camouflage my fur into my surroundings and begin my search for a possible manhole. How dare the spirit abandon me at such a dangerous place! He wanted me dead; there was no question. At least his folly was over. Now, I could go to more important matters: finding my only friend.

               As I walk around, the surface becomes less and less appealing. I was never fan of the surface's obsession with light as if they needed it everywhere. On Snowdown day, they seem to embed every streetlight, every building, every home with bright decorations and inanimate poro statues. Not to mention that the music grows grating with the humans singing the same song. Snowdown day.. Snowdown day.. Snowdown day.. and I'm tired of it! Tired of the voices. Tired of the strings and instrumentals, yet it somehow gets louder and louder in this wretched surface dweller city the more I walk forward. How could anyone stand this? I tried to plug my ears. I tried to use those ear plugs that seem to drone out fireworks, but they were all useless. It kept echoing in my brain. Even after I found a manhole, I could still hear the music from the pavement above.

               Eventually, I made my way to the next location: the Goopy One's previous home. As I move closer, the music slowly fades away, giving in to uncomfortable, inconsistent silence. The houses around me were all dark and, unlike the other sectors that I've passed, there was no lights or decorations or statues. I could hear the silent winds around me making the buildings groan and weep as they attack at their hastily mended wounds. They may look the same, but the doors weren't, the windows had no glass, and the familiar skittering of insects grow more apparent the deeper I went.

               I went into the Goopy One's home to see all of the wallpaper drying up and all of the furniture taken away. I look at the fireplace where we once sat where it was all covered in soot. He took me here after he found out that I tried to ruin Snowdown last year. The Goopy One and I sat around here all night as his creators merely watched from a distance. I remember their cautious eyes petrifying me behind my back. I remember the male creator having a gun right next to his side and his hand sitting comfortably at the trigger every time I looked back. Every second I always sworn I heard it clicked. "Don't worry," the Goopy One would tell me as I jerk my head back. "He won't hurt you. As long as I'm here. He never seen you before.. He kinda reminds me of you sometimes honestly."

               "Really..?" I murmur to myself in the darkness, sitting in the same exact spot and looked above where the pictures used to hang.

               "Cares too much, honestly. I'm just glad he let me do this."

               I look back and the chair wasn't there. He no longer lived. The illusion was gone. Where I once saw pictures of a happy family and the disgusting dead tree that stood tall, there's nothing now. It reminded me of the sewers with the house's loneliness except the screams that happened occurred years past. I look to the hallway and see a faint light in the distance, coming from a hatch that seemed to be blown open. I tip toe slowly down the stairs to not make a sound.

               "Goopy One?" I ask as I trudge slowly. There was no response, but as I look into the hidden basement, I saw a small lantern with a certain blob building materials close to the wall to my left where his bed once stood. He was meticulously designing something with his heated hands. His products seemed oddly misshapen yet familiar like a human child's drawing. I approach closer and closer to see what he was planning. Was it against me? Was it against the surface dwellers? I see metal planes.. metal UFOs.. metal steam golems... these have to be weapons! Maybe he can control them with his mind.. I immediately try to grab for one, but my arms phase through. I look at my hand in disbelief before doing it again and again and again to no avail. "What.. what is this!?"

               Then, the Goopy One finished the last weapon and placed it in the bag. He held it still before he looks down with a doubtful look. He finished all of the materials, but that wasn't the task he had. Could he even do it? Suddenly, I hear a faint sound of music behind me with a familiar tune. I mouth the lyrics.

               "Snowdown day.."

               The Goopy One looks up at the wall and grip the bag with purpose. “I can do this..” he says happily. “Yeah.. I can do this! Hope you guys are ready!” He hoisted the bag over his shoulder and ran through me. I step back in surprise, closing my eyes waiting to be hit by weight of an elephant, but I felt only a breeze. I opened to see the sole lantern sitting on the floor and the quiet music still playing. I turn around to the door and I only saw a woman. A woman floating in the air with her blue-yellow hair and her bright red dress floating about. Around her was a golden instrument with a holiday wreath and some stockings as if it's a surface dweller fireplace. With her delicate fingernails, the maven carefully strums the strings to finish out the snowdown's carol.

               I point my crossbow at her. "Who are you?" I ask.

               "I am the second of spirits. The one Snowdown's present. One that results from the past." she speaks in clean clarity within my head. She never moved her lips.

               "What..." I said. "What did you do with your music..?"

               "If we talk further, your friend would go further. I suggest we follow him. You don't expect to run after him.. don't you?"

               I take the hand reluctantly, knowing I had no choice. She was responsible for this state, and this ghost.. there was no use arguing against them.

               I jump from house to house. Going from pipe to pipe to leave my gifts for the children of the sector. In this day of Snowdown, most people were either sleeping or partying with alcohol and shimmer in their hands. It's perfect for me. I had no one stopping me at that point. For every house I went, I leave the hastily wrapped gift below the tree or in the stocking and slowly made my way out. As I skipped over the numerous gaps between the houses jubilantly, I always imagine each kid's reaction as I place them down. The child happily flying the plane as he makes engine noises. The thrill of imitating Blitzcrank's grab at random family members through his figurine. Maybe even some sword play-fighting, and I plan to witness each and every kid's reaction as much as possible. Imagining that happiness... it just brings back old memories. Always such a warm feeling.

               As I approach the last house, I wrap the last gift up quickly, a metal gun with some soft paper balls inside for ammo. The house loomed over the neighborhood as it stood on the edge of the sector away from others. I remember in my weekly visits to the sector I used to live, there was a family that decided to move away from the vibrant community. I always remember my mom and dad always talking about the people around us and telling great stories. Why would anyone leave that behind?

               I slowly sneak into the house with the wrapped toy gun. I went through the chimney and saw what seemed to be a stereotypical room with some lights, king poro statues, and a grand Snowdown tree. I look behind and see the stockings each labeled with a name. "Dad", "Mom", and "Michael". Guess I was right with the kid being an only child. I put the gun into his stocking and checked to see if the gift had the classic "From: Santa" on it.

               Creak...

               My eyes widen. I look back and see him. A middle aged man looking at me with a gun with a frightful and worried look. I raise my hands to show no harm and stepped back to the chimney. "Hey pal.." I said. "I didn't mean any harm.. I just wanted to give your son a gift. Just.. playing Santa."

               "Santa doesn't exist.." he growls aggressively. "..and I know you're definitely not him." He fires the gun, scattering parts of my body on the floor. I hear everyone wake up.

               "What's going on!?" the wife screams.

               "Dad!?" the son shouts.

               "Some... something's in our house! Don't know what he wants.. but he wants something! It’s Zaun! He has to want something!"

               The second shots fires as I climb to the rooftop through the chimney. I felt the shot almost hitting my face. I climbed and climbed. The third shot fired and I felt it pierce my back. Everything below me was spiraling into chaos as they scream and shout for my demise until.. I saw the sky. I felt the freedom of the air. I grab the ground below me and stretched my arms back. I release my legs and when the family finally got out, all they saw was a  green comet flying away.

               Smack!

               I feel the pavement hit my face. I look up and saw the abandoned homes of my childhood. All abandoned because of me.. My hand dove into my body as I slowly grab the bullet within me and observed it. It was a large bullet. Something meant for, at the very least, fatal injury. I throw the bullet on the pavement and run back to the safety of my once living house. To them, I wasn't playing Santa; I was playing a criminal.. Thankfully no one saw me. Thankfully I didn't see their reactions.

               I watch in horror through the window as the man tries to shoot the Goopy One in smithereens. I can hear their incessant shouting as they try to murder my once loyal subject. When he tried to jump out, I hear the door next to me unlock. A large male, a large female, and a small male come out, watching as he flew to his home. The male still had his gun cocked in the sky as if he could shoot from so far away.

               "What was that, dad?" the small child asks.

               "Check the kitchen! Martha check the safe! Now!"

               The door slams and I was merely alone with the spirit..

               "What was he doing spirit!? What was he doing.. This is exactly what I thought would happen!!" She simply pointed to the window. As I walk towards it, she begins to play another song. Through the glass, I see the human boy look into a sock hanging from the fireplace, only finding the gun that the Goopy One made. He smiles with happiness until looking away from the sock to the kitchen, most likely in response to the other humans' stupid screaming. He hides the gift in his pouch and goes to my window and looks up at the sky with eyes full of happiness and hope, mouthing the words "Thank you".

               I look back at the spirit. "That doesn't change anything.." I growl. "So he made a person happy.. He gets shot! But that's fine because his stupid surface dwellers are happy!!" She didn't even look up. She was just playing the music as the boy looks up trying to see the Goopy One again.

               "You.. What are you doing with your stupid music!!" I shout aiming my crossbow for her. "The kid's house is happy that his house was invaded.. You make the Goopy One give stupid small weapons to everyone at the risk of his own life.. He gotten shot! How.. how are you making them do this.. this.. nonsense? Brainwashing them... Is Snowdown just about this? Stupidity?"

               "My music lives in everyone Twitch.. This is just a day when my music is the loudest. The music exists outside of Snowdown." the maven slowly floats towards me. Her skin turned green and her feet began to touch the floor. The dress got ripped away as I saw the Goopy One appear right before my eyes. "It even exists within you.."

               I step back. My hands shake. The music grows louder and louder... I couldn't hear anything! "No.. No! You're not the Goopy One! Stop this.. Stop this now! Get out of my head.. GET OUT!"

               "Come on pal.." she imitates. "I'm your friend after all."

               "No.. No! Get out.. Get out! Stop it!"

               "Hey.. is something wrong? I just wanted people to be happy."

               "Stop it! STOP IT WITH THIS MADNESS!" I life the crossbow. "HAUNT ME NO LONGER!" The trigger was fired. The arrow pierced the spirit's chest. Crack begin to form on his skin.

               "And here I thought.. you could change buddy," she said in the voice of my best friend. She suddenly dissipates into snow and the music goes silent. The lights of the house grow dim, and I was left alone.

[talesofzero]

La Douleur Exquise - Ch. 7

AU; Chapter 7 - The Case of Yellow

Rated E for Eyy boys actually bang in this one. As per request, contains some casual Bulge/Zero. 

~4100 words

I wasn’t sure if Harlock wanted to make it obvious that he was avoiding me. But it was obvious.

He would only stay in the same room with me if everyone else was with us. Even then, he wouldn’t make eye contact, wouldn’t speak to me. I tried to think what I could have done to bring on this kind of behavior, but I’d never made much sense of Harlock or the rest of his family.

I was fine to leave Harlock to his devices. I didn’t need his approval. Didn’t need him meddling all the time. I didn’t care if he was avoiding me.

But I didn’t like being ignored for no damn reason.

“Alright, what is it?” I asked once I’d shut the office door. He’d been spending more time than usual in there in his quest to avoid me.

“What’s what?” he asked, his eye locked on his computer. I doubted there was anything to see on his monitor.

Stalking up to him, I slammed my hands down on the desk to finally draw his gaze. “You know what’s what. What happened that’s got you all moody? You’re like a little kid again. Did I do something that upset you? If I did, you’ll have to explain. I can’t read minds.”

Rather than respond, his glare matched mine. We were at our usual deadlock. Childish as I felt, I refused to let him win. He always made me like this. Always had.

The day I was introduced to him, he stared up at me with those big brown eyes, framed by unbrushed curls. Poor kid was in desperate need of a haircut. After a minute spent watching me, he pointed up between my eyes and yelled, “Your nose is real big!”

“Phantom!” Wataru scolded as my hands shot to cover my nose. “Don’t be rude!”

“It’s true?” the kid shot back.

Wataru eyed Phantom the same way my moms looked at me when I did something they didn’t like. “Excuse my brother, Warrius. He has no manners. He’s been spending too much time around my father.”

“He’s a lot younger than you,” I said as I glanced around the house. They lived downtown, and it showed. The placed seemed to be held together by yellowing wallpaper and wobbly linoleum. There were mismatched, chipped dishes stacked in the sink, much like all the different chairs at the kitchen table where we sat.

“Phantom’s thirteen years younger than me, just a few years younger than you, really.” He returned to skimming over my homework, tapping his pencil against the tabletop. “He’s my half brother, though,” he added.

I glanced between them, Wataru with his calm brown eyes and strong jaw, and Phantom with his wild hair and squishy cheeks. If not for the age gap, though, they would have looked identical. There was no sign they had different parents.

Phantom returned to scribbling crayons around some copy paper with a vengeance. His tongue stuck out to the side as he concentrated on his work. I tried to make sense of what he was drawing, but it just looked like a blob to my eyes.

“This is fine,” Wataru said with a smile as he slid the papers back to me. “I’m not sure why your moms insist on me tutoring you. You’re plenty smart, Warrius.”

I could feel my heart hammering in my throat, my cheeks burning. “Thank you,” I mumbled.

He usually came to my house to look over my work, and when he’d leave, Mom would laugh. It wasn’t her or Ma who asked for his help. It was me. He was way too old for me to have a crush on. I was just some kid to him - a high-schooler. Even back then, I knew that. I didn’t ever expect anything of it, but I would make any excuse to be around him.

After Phantom’s mom got sick, our after-school tutoring sessions moved to his house. That first day, Phantom climbed into my lap without asking and showed me his picture. “Um, it’s nice,” I said.

“Dad’s spaceship!” he said.

“Your dad has a spaceship?”

“Yes! He’s cool!”

Wataru made a noise of displeasure as he opened the fridge. “Don’t go around advertising Father,” he said. “Now do you want potatoes?”

“No! No potatoes! Macaroni!”

Wataru leaned on the fridge door as he looked back at Phantom with dull eyes. “We had macaroni yesterday.”

Phantom reached up and smacked his hand against my face. “Warr’us wants macaroni!”

“I didn’t say that,” I said as I tried to pry his hand away.

He turned around and pinned me with the angriest glare I’d ever seen from a four year-old. “Yeah-huh.”

I glared right back until Wataru startled us both with a laugh that made my face burn again. “Not a lot of people challenge Phantom like that. You can’t win. You’ll just be stuck staring at him, but I’ll give you points for trying.”

He was right. I never really won. Even now, my eyes tore from Harlock’s as he yanked open a desk drawer. I could feel him still watching me as he pulled something out and tossed it on the desk. I recognized my own handwriting, but I couldn’t recall the envelope at first. The last time I’d written any letter to Harlock was…

“My uncle dropped a stack of those off when he was here last,” Harlock said.

Ah, so it was those letters. “Hm, I wouldn’t have expected him to keep them all these years,” I said as I picked up the old, frayed paper. The top had been sliced open. I doubted Franklin was the type to read others’ mail, meaning Harlock had read through them.  “So you finally got them then?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harlock’s tone was accusing, like I’d wronged him somehow.

“What did it matter? You never got them, so it didn’t change anything. It was stupid anyhow, writing to an outlaw. Could have gotten me in so much trouble.”

As I removed the letter, I glanced up to see Harlock glowering at the wall. “I thought you hated me all that time,” he said. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I’ve never hated you, Harlock,” I sighed.

He jolted as though I’d slapped him. Once again, he was that wide-eyed child staring at me as I unfurled the letter.

Dear Harlock,

I hope this letter finds you well and all that. See past letters for proper formalities. I’m too tired for them right now.

The last few weeks have been rough. I’ve been missing home more than ever. We lost seven men in one battle, three in another. We’ve struggled to maintain repairs while the government keeps sending us on new missions.

I don’t begrudge them for it. There aren’t enough ships. They have to send us out to meet any oncoming threats, but I haven’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in ages. We’re all starting to lose it a bit. I’ll be fine, but I really need some sleep and a good day where things aren’t on fire. I love this ship, but something is always on fire.

I’m not really cut out for my new position. It’s becoming more and more apparent that we all get promotions based on how long we’re able to stay alive out here while everyone around us dies. I wasn’t trained for the position of First Officer, so I’m always two steps behind, having to check manuals. I just hope I don’t get anyone killed because of it.

Sorry to talk so much about myself. It must get boring to hear me complain. How are you? How’s Tochiro? I hear the Deathshadow made a mess of some space wolves a while back. Some of the crew here would probably like you if you didn’t also shoot at government crafts. Seriously, stop that. We need those.

We should have a leave on Earth in two months. I’ll likely sleep through the whole thing, but I’m looking forward to it. I’ll drink some cheap wine for you while I’m there, just like old times. Take care of yourself. Don’t do anything too stupid.

Sincerely, Warrius Zero

“I remember this,” I said. “Things were awful. We were low on supplies, and I ran on coffee until I passed out at my station. I wouldn’t recommend that. You feel like death.”

“I’m sorry,” he said like the wind had been knocked out of him. “I would have written back had I known.”

I wasn’t so sure. “No need to apologize. You never got the letters, so it doesn’t matter. I’m sort of embarrassed you read them now. I did do a lot of whining.”

At least that answered one thing I’d questioned since meeting him in that infirmary. When I was on the Karyuu, I imagined he did receive everything I wrote, but I didn’t know if he read them. Why should he? In my mind, he hated me. Some letters had sentences or paragraphs scribbled out to remove my apologies over how I had let us end things.

But when I saw him in that bed, almost as pale as the bandages, he looked up at me with sorrow in his now-lone eye. “I thought you’d given up on me,” he murmured in that drugged haze.

“Believe me, I tried,” I said. “But you’re a hard man to ignore.”

His eye searched me for answers, still sharp despite the fog over it. “Why are you here now? After all this time?”

“My ship’s gone too. My family...” The Machine Men’s all-out attack had taken everything. Even if I could have brought myself to work under them, they kept insisting I get a machine body. Either that, or I had to accept the mission to capture Harlock. I accepted to keep my humanity, and because I needed to know why Harlock hadn’t protected the Earth. The answer was that he had. He’d tried to, but he never got that far.

“We’re in the same boat,” I said as I brushed a few strands of hair from his face. “I’m an enemy of the government now. And your father asked me to look after you.”

His expression darkened at the mention of his father, the same way Wataru’s used to. “If you’re just doing this for him, why avoid me for so long? I wasn’t worth looking after then? Just now that I don’t have other people to look after me for you?”

My mouth was left partially open as I stopped myself from asking about the letters. I’d never abandoned him, but then, maybe letters weren’t enough. So I said nothing, unaware he’d never received them.

We stuck together because we were all we had left. He sulked for a while, missing his ship, his friends. I couldn’t say I was any better. I didn’t spend a single day sober for months.

If I’d been sober, he wouldn’t have come up with this stupid, insane brothel idea in the first place. I woke up to a raging headache, a spotty memory, and him sitting naked in bed beside me ranting about this amazing idea he had.

I had so many regrets in my life that I could have amassed an army out of them, but that night would have been one of my generals.

Perhaps everything would have turned out differently if he’d received my letters. Likely not, but the way he looked at them made me wonder. When I handed the envelope back to him, he took it as though it might crumble in his fingers.

“Well, with that out of the way, you can quit getting all anxious around me,” I said, still not sure why he’d reacted so oddly to receiving them. “Get some rest too. You look like you could use some sleep.”

He didn’t say anything as I turned and walked out, but I took a quick glance at him as I closed the door, still holding the letter, looking even more exhausted than before.

We were both so young then. Just stupid kids, too young to be fighting wars, too young to see so much death. I wished he would forgive himself, that stupid kid he used to be. That kid didn’t deserve all the blame Harlock placed on him. Just a boy trying to fill his father’s shoes. I couldn’t blame him for that.

But I could and would blame him for this terrible brothel filled with too many kids. Even Manabu was much too young for this, but Daiba and Tadashi were hardly teenagers! And I didn’t even want to think about Monono.

As I started back toward my room, I heard chattering from down the hall. Manabu’s door was open. No one was supposed to be alone with Manabu, so I had to check, even if it was a stupid rule.

“Manabu, please stop,” I heard as I neared. The voice definitely did not belong to any of our boys. No, it sounds like… Schwanhelt. Poor man was probably doing Wataru’s bidding again.

“But I’m attractive, right?” Manabu asked.

“S-sure. I mean- I don’t know, Manabu!”

“If you didn’t know me or my dad, you’d sleep with me, right?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know you!”

“Well, that wasn’t a no.”

I turned at the doorframe to find Schwanhelt standing with his face in his hands beside the doorway. Manabu sat cross-legged on the bed. He’d undone his bowtie and the top button of his shirt. Subtlety was not this boy’s strong suit.

“Manabu, you know you’re not allowed to be alone with other men,” I said.

He flashed a grin. “Of course. Only you, Mr. Zero.”

My unamused glare only made his eyes shine. He’d been spending too much time around the other boys. They were bad influences.

“But the door was open,” he continued, “So I wasn’t really alone.”

“That’s not how it works,” I said as I grabbed Schwanhelt by the arm. “Sorry, Manabu, but...good attempt, I guess.”

That was enough to keep him from pouting as I dragged Schwanhelt away. The poor man still had a hand plastered to his face. “Ah, thanks, Warrius. I just need to...sit down somewhere for a while. If I could just…”

Schwanhelt lied about as well as most of the SDF - poorly. “Come here,” I said through a sigh, pulling him into my room. “God, you have it hard-up for that boy, don’t you?”

“I don’t. I don’t. I don’t.”

“Convincing,” I drawled. “Do you use this same method on Wataru? I’m sure he really falls for the part where you hide your eyes.”

That got him to look at me. “You can’t tell him! Oh God, I’ve done enough to hurt that family. I can’t have feelings for Manabu after everything that’s happened. I can’t.”

There was no point in treading old waters and trying to convince him what happened wasn’t his fault. He had to work that out on his own. But I wasn’t so bad a friend as to let him go so anxious and, well…

“Schwan, just sleep with me,” I said.

He froze. I could almost see the sirens spinning around in his head. “W-what, Warrius, I can’t-”

“It’ll relieve some tension,” I said. “Come on, Schwan, when’s the last time you had an orgasm?”

He blushed from his neck to his ears. Honestly, Schwanhelt was adorable. The uniform didn’t help. I was a sucker for those uniforms.

But coming right off from dealing with Manabu, he was a mess. “I-I can’t afford- I’m sorry-”

“I won’t charge you,” I said. “If you’re not up for it, it’s okay. I’ll leave, and you can hide out in here for a bit. It’s up to you.”

He stood in silence, a war behind his eyes. When he moved, it was for the door. Manabu really had his work cut out for him if he wanted to catch this one, I thought until Schwanhelt locked the door.

“Okay,” he said in a whisper.

He’d obviously never done this before. “You’ll have to be more explicit than that.”

His cheeks tinged red again. “Explicit? God, what do I need to say? Can’t we just get on with it?”

I shrugged. “That works.”

His back hit the door as I pushed up against him, locking our lips. He whimpered his contentment against me as I pressed my leg between his. Manabu had been more successful than he may have realized, and Schwan was quick to grind himself against my thigh. His hands locked onto the arm loops of my vest, pulling me in closer.

He tasted of strong coffee and desperation. His movements were all quick but strong. I let him take over the kiss, his chest heaving as he toyed with my tongue. By the time he pulled back for air, there was a line of saliva running from the corner of his mouth.

I breathed a laugh into his neck, peppering kisses up to his jaw. “Poor thing,” I said. “You have been neglecting yourself.”

“Warrius,” he groaned, now clawing at my back. “God, I need you.”

“How would you like this to go?” I asked before placing a gentle bite to his ear.

He stuttered a gasp. “I-I don’t know. Damn, don’t make me think now.”

I decided to make it easy for him. “Fast or slow?”

“Ahh, damn. F-fast. I can’t wait.”

“So impatient,” I laughed. “Do you want to go all the way, or do you just want me to suck you off?”

His hand returned to his face. “Fuck, don’t make me answer that.”

“So you want to go all the way.”

The stressed sound he made was enough of a confirmation.

“Top or bottom?”

“I-I don’t know!”

Again, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ahead and top this round.” Preparing him to bottom would add time, and he was suffering enough.

He whined his agreement as I pulled him back toward the bed with one hand and unbuttoned my vest with the other. By the time the back of my knees hit the bed, I had my shirt halfway undone as well. As I fell back, I pulled him down with me. He caught himself, his face flushed as he hung over me. His eyes fell to my bare chest, and he swallowed.

“You still doing okay?” I asked.

He did manage a smile then, if a shy one. “Yes, sorry. I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re doing fine,” I said as I placed my hands to his cheeks. “You will have to take something off to make this work though. Condoms are in the nightstand, of course, unless you want to fool around some more.”

“Ah, I wish I could,” he said, standing back up to take off his jacket while I finished removing my shirt. I went ahead and took off my shoes, pants, and boxers too while he fiddled with whatever weird undersuit came with those uniforms.

“Sorry-sorry,” he mumbled, as he partially tried to cover himself. His boxers really couldn’t hide anything, not that he had any reason to be so stressed. I was more exposed than he was.  

“It’s fine. I like a good show.” With him all flustered, I reached over and fished a condom out of the drawer myself, tearing it open with me teeth. “Come ‘ere,” I said around the plastic.

He leaned in as I spit the wrapper away, and I wrapped my hand around the back of his head to pull him in for another kiss. Clients didn’t kiss much, so it was more for me than him. He hummed and moaned sweetly into the kiss as it deepened. It also made him sink closer toward me, until I could yank down his boxers.

His breath hitched as I pulled from the kiss and moved to his neck. WIthout the collar of his shirt in the way, I could press soft love bites to his shoulder as I rolled the condom over his cock.

“Warrius,” he whimpered. His arms trembled as they held him up over me.

“Relax,” I breathed as I reached back over to my nightstand. “You feeling good?”

“God, yes. You’re amazing, Warrius.”

That sent a pleased shiver up my spine that made my toes curl. “Thank you. Now don’t lose yourself yet, alright?”

What started as a confused hum ended with him choking in surprise as I worked some lube over his cock. “Fuck,” he hissed. Before his arms could give out, I released him and leaned back, wiping what was left of the lube on my own half-hard cock. I was going to ask if he wanted me to turn over, but it seemed not. Grabbing my hips, he put one knee on the bed and lifted me up. I pulled one leg up to rest over his shoulder. Rare to have a client who didn’t want me face-down, but then again, he wasn’t a proper client.

Even rarer to have a client suddenly look so concerned. “A-are you prepared?” he asked.

I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. “Schwan, babe, I do this every day. As long as there’s lube, I can handle it.”

Still looking a bit nervous, he leaned in enough to kiss me somewhere between my eyelid and my nose. He must have missed wherever he’d intended to kiss me because he was too busy trying to hold himself together while pushing his cock inside me.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers pressed tight to my hips.

Unlike him, I gave in with a gasp and a sigh, grasping for the sheets. God, he was so hot inside me. It made my whole body pulse. I needed him to let go too. I needed the rush and the heat. “Schwan,” I said as I fought to keep my hips from rolling. “Please fuck me.”

He choked as he tried to suck in air, but he was quick to give me what I asked. His hips pulled back and rocked into mine as he gasped my name. Then again. Again. Always with my name.

“That’s good,” I purred as my eyes rolled back. My body writhed without my permission, but I let it for once. “More, Schwan. Harder.” My chest rose and fell with each of my gasping breaths. “Faster.”

He gave a growl as he picked up his pace, as lost as I was in the pleasure. Only years of habit kept me talking.

“So good,” I moaned, gnawing my lower lip. “So hot.” It felt so damn close to heaven to be filled like that, and so damn close to hell to be on fire from the inside out. My back arched toward him as his pace became frantic. I loved drowning in his power, feeling the bed shake just like I did.

Through half-lidded eyes, I admired his smooth shoulders and chest. His muscles strained with every snap of his hips. Damn, he looked good. He could have moonlighted at the brothel if he wanted.

His voice was ragged when he finally strung together something coherent. “Oh god, Warrius. Fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Go ahead,” I panted. Before I could wrap my hand around my cock for my own release, his hand took my place, his thumb circling the head until he had me melting with weak whimpers, my hands fisted in the sheets. “Schwanhelt, more,” I begged.

Sweet as he was, he pumped my cock as his thrusts became erratic. I felt his whole form tremble as he came, riding out his orgasm with a few shallow thrusts. Only then did I let myself fall over the edge. The writhing pleasure in my gut became pulses of ecstasy as I came across my stomach. “S-Schwan,” I said through fragmented gasps.

As the pleasure faded, my body went slack. I bathed in the feeling of exhaustion and contentment, listening to Schwanhelt catch his breath. “Fuck, Warrius,” he said as he pulled out. “That was good.”

I hummed in response. I hadn’t had two rounds in one day in a while. I only had five clients a week, so I was pretty well worn out.

“Is this the part where I leave?” he asked.

My body shook with a silent laugh. “You’re welcome to join me for a shower,” I said. My body protested as I sat up, though I’d never listened to its complaints before, and I wouldn’t now. “And thanks, Schwanhelt, that was nice.”

Even then, he blushed. “M-my pleasure.”